


Raccoon City Redux

by ccuddlefish



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-23 05:50:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 56,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13781064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ccuddlefish/pseuds/ccuddlefish
Summary: We never seem to run out of Raccoon Cities, or Raccoon City never ends. Take your pick.Piers is a BSAA operative responsible for directing survivors out of whatever remained of the city after the C Virus was released into the water. Jake is a maybe-reformed mercenary carrying some very precious cargo. Can they work together long enough to deliver the antivirus before there's no more survivors left to save?





	1. piers: i

**Author's Note:**

> Sherry and Chris WILL be in this work later!! Maybe some other people as well, I haven't planned that far. I just didn't tag them at the beginning because I hate it when people tag unfinished fics with a character name and the character isn't even introduced into the story yet. Pet peeve I guess. I'll add Sherry and Chris to the character list when they appear so it's not false advertising lmfao
> 
> Rating subject to whatever change I want because I wrote it and you didn't. I don't know what the ratings mean though because I don't spend all my time on this hellsite. Teen's for kissing right? 
> 
> Anyway I realized I hadn't written for this ship in a while and I had three chapters of this kicking around so maybe this is gonna be the fire lit under my ass to keep writing. Maybe not, though. I'll put it in the description if I ever actually abandon this dumpster fire of a fic 
> 
> Probably update biweekly but finals are coming up so :/

They called it the third, fourth, fifth Raccoon City. They brought the quarantine gates. They sent in their military, their special ops, their overhead helicopters with the half-hearted attempts at rescue. And then they abandoned Piers at his post and left the city to rot.

On the first day, it rained. And on the second, and the third, and all the way to the sixth, where it seemed to give up and almost sullenly remain overcast. And Piers shot anything that moved wrong, directed survivors to the most recently operational medical bays. A quiet life, just him and his radios, one crackling distress signals and the other quietly catching the occasional satellite music channel in between dry stretches of static and local emergency broadcasts. He didn't hate it at all. It was quiet, almost serene, safe. He'd called his mother last week, before the battery rations for the satellite phone ran out and his supply drops stopped coming. He wouldn't want for food or water for a long time, but it still made him nervous, as though he had been forgotten. Stranded in the middle of an infected city with a tenuous supply line was one thing, but forgotten? Something else. He hadn't spoken to Captain Redfield- Chris, in four days, six hours, forty minutes. In the back of his mind, he wondered if the other members of Alpha scattered around the city got calls from the Captain. And then he wondered if any of them were still alive, but that made him sick to his stomach and he pulled the sleeping bag over his head and curled up on himself and told himself not to think on it anymore.

On the second morning of the second week(from his first night, which Piers had deemed 0:00:00), he climbed his crow's nest swathed in black and heard a commotion. For once, it was sunny, and he could see the street below him clearly, a broad boulevard lined by trees and shops with their windows busted and their contents scattered like entrails. A small figure clothed in black, long coat trailing behind them, barreled around the corner and sprinted down the middle of the road. From their hand dangled a black thing, something medium-sized and rectangular. Piers lifted the sight of his rifle to his eye, loaded it, and peered through to the tiny figure below. It was a briefcase, the thing in the person's hand. And Piers panned up, locking the crosshairs neatly on their head, finger flicking off the trigger because the dead didn't run with as much desperation as the living did. The best they could manage was a bored shuffle. And shuffle they did, moving around the corner in front of the running figure with dogged tenacity, at least twenty of them. The figure did a double take, spun around, and saw another group come towards them from the opposite side, as if clamping them in a vice. Piers squinted into the sight, trying to see their face as they spun helplessly on the spot, head flicking back and forth, briefcase knocking against their leg.

Piers registered the scared expression on his face quickly enough, but it took another few seconds before he realized who it was.

Almost with regret, Piers raised his hand and waved it in the air, leaving his rifle to fall to his shoulder. Cupping the other hand to his mouth, he shouted,

"Muller! Up here!"

And he pressed his foot to the metal of the fire escape ladder, unfolding it and sending it screeching to the street below.

Jake fucking Muller. After all this time, he was still alive, still up to no good. Although, not for much longer if he didn't stop staring up at the building with his mouth open. Jake's face contorted as he squinted up at him, crosshairs bobbing above his right cheekbone. (Oh, what a strange turn of events. Piers' finger wasn't on the trigger this time.) Perhaps he recognized him, perhaps not, but Jake quickly realized what his options were and sprinted towards the ladder. As he climbed, Piers focused his sights on the bottom and quickly dispatched any infected that got too close. The ones that weren't in advanced states of decay could climb sometimes, and he didn't want to risk it. He heard Jake reach the top, so he paused for a moment and yanked the foot of the ladder back up with one hand, clicking it back into place. Quickly, he loosed shots into three of the closest ones and pulled back. If he had to guess, about twenty of them were still milling about under his balcony, looking ugly and smelling bad and clawing at the wall. He frowned and tossed his rifle over his shoulder, silencing his radios in the middle of a hiss of static and an outdated pop song. Below him, the smell of rotting flesh wafted four stories and just about slapped him in the face, and he had to hold his gloved hand over his nose.

"Do you know what's happening downtown?" Jake was speaking, but Piers ignored him as he shoved the radios into his bag and folded up his tattered lawnchair. The entire time, he didn't turn his back on him, tensed and ready, even as he cleaned up his perch and prepared to leave. Couldn't risk it. It was a miracle Muller hadn't attacked him already.

"Did you hear me? I said-" That familiar little twinge of annoyance was back, and Piers found himself gritting his teeth when he finally turned his head and looked Jake in the eye.

"I know it'll be real difficult for you, but I need you to shut up and get inside." He paused, as Jake tried to protest, arms crossing, brow furrowing. "Unless you want to ring the dinner bell for every infected in a five-mile radius?" Jake's mouth snapped shut. Piers felt a little pleased. Finally. And with that, Piers turned and lowered himself off the edge of his perch to the balcony below, forcing the rusty sliding door open and slipping into the third-floor apartment he called home.

The inside of Piers' apartment- or was it called that if you didn't really live there? Base of operations? Hidey-hole?- was dark, with the curtains drawn against the morning sun. He pulled the fabric back, blinking until his vision cleared of sunspots, and turned to Jake Muller, notorious criminal, wanted mercenary, who stood in the middle of the dingy living room and put a hand up to shade his eyes. Before he could speak, recover, do anything but blink and stand still, Piers interrupted him.

"Now that I've saved your life, give me one reason why I shouldn't have shot you on sight." Why hadn't he? A man with Umbrella ties had no business being halfway across the world from his home, in the middle of an outbreak. The rifle was still in Piers' hands. If Jake- No, no first names. If Muller moved, he could get it up, step back, fire close range- Piers stepped back until he was flush with the wall. Jake laughed, not cruelly, as if something was funny.

"Are you scared? Of me?" He lifted his hands, one palm out, the other clutching the black briefcase. Piers bristled at that, reaching into his pocket for his knife. If he came now, could he maybe duck under a grab, get around to his back--

"Aw-" Jake hissed a sigh, as if the whole situation was just so damn unfortunate. As if Piers didn't have a reason to mistrust him. He lifted his hand and dragged it over the top of his head, breathing out hard through his nose.

"Listen, you want a reason? Here." He lifted the briefcase, letting it hang by the handle from two of his fingers. A suitcase bomb, maybe? A tracker? Piers raised the rifle, pointed it squarely at Muller's chest. A shot from this range and at this caliber would be death, if Piers could hack it. He peered through the sight at Jake's breast pocket, right below his heart. What was the patch on his shirt? It wasn't Umbrella, though that didn't mean much- and it seemed familiar- Piers shook his head to clear it, cleared his throat and used his negotiation voice.

"I'm not picking that up. Put it down on the floor, slowly." He gestured with the barrel of his rifle.

"This isn't really the time for-" Jake hissed.

"Put it down." He replied firmly, gesturing again. Jake rolled his eyes and set the briefcase on the floor between them.

"Step back." Jake glared him down but did it, backing up and flopping onto the old, cracking leather couch, sending dust floating upwards, catching in the light from the window and glowing yellow. He crossed his arms, leaned back, and sat still. Piers gritted his teeth. Asshole. Keeping one eye on Jake, who had now taken out a small army knife and was cleaning his nails, Piers kneeled down. He grabbed a hold of the lid of the briefcase and snapped it open.

Nestled in a block of foam were three small vials. Two were full of a dark red liquid that looked viscous in the sunlight, barely moved when he shook the casing. The third was about double the size, filled with a clear liquid that was leaving a precipitate on the top of the bottle, crusted around the cap. Hastily scrawled labels in black pen on the clear bottle read 'Catalyst' and 'Sample' on the red. Piers remembered the government agent who'd introduced Jake to Alpha team, and what he'd learned later. Jake was immune, unfortunately. This was obviously the makings of a vaccine, or an antivirus. Blood and all. Piers sighed huffily, staring at the briefcase for a moment and hesitantly clicking it shut. He glanced over at Jake, who remained interested in his hands for another few seconds before speaking.

"You done posturing, or do you wanna point that thing at me again? I don't mind." He gestured with the open blade to Piers' rifle, met his eye, grinned, all forced and square. Smug fucker.

"Fill me in." Piers growled. Jake snorted.

"A little trust might've been nice."

"Earn it, then. Tell me what's going on." Jake rolled his eyes for what had to have been the fifteenth time, and leaned forward in his seat.

"Here's what I know."


	2. piers: ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna post this in hopes it'll revive the fandom. Have fun

Piers almost couldn't believe it. The way things had worked out. Before he could even process what was happening, it had been decided. His brain ran off with the idea without consulting him. Jake and Piers agreed to complete the job, to run the components of the antivirus back to Jake's employer. 

All they had to do now was figure out where that was. Jake had been frustratingly unclear with his directions, only having vague ideas of street names and which areas were clear. Piers gathered that the lab was close to the center of town, but there were a few places on the university campus that fit the bill, plus a small CDC lab. Until Piers could reach his superiors or get a message through to Jake's employers, they couldn't leave, despite Jake's assertions that he could recognize the place on sight. Sight wasn't enough when a wrong turn could mean death. 

So they waited for a return message from the BSAA or the government, and tried not to tear each other's throats out. 

The sun had almost set, warm rays peeking over the tops of the trees in the courtyard behind the building and settling on Piers' face. He relaxed for a moment, eyes fluttering shut, breath slowing. He left the knife and the half-cut vegetables(the last of the fresh food from the final supply drop) on the cutting board in front of him, and remembered his apartment. It was probably collecting dust by now, he mused. He'd have to give it a proper cleaning when this hell was over. The end was in sight now, with the beginnings of a cure tucked away in the sagging closet and lying on his couch. If babysitting Muller for however long was the catch, he'd take it. 

Speak of the devil. Jake rose from his recorded transmissions on the couch and walked over behind Piers, carefully maneuvering around him in the small space. Piers glanced over his shoulder. Jake nodded, politely. For once. How long would that last?

"Do you want help?" Jake inquired, quietly. Without another word or even enough time for Piers to answer, he reached over Piers' shoulder and picked up the knife from the cutting board, holding it in one hand and grabbing an apple from the bowl on the counter with the other one. Piers started, eyes jumping from the open blade in Jake's hand to his face. 

"Put it down." Piers ordered.

If he came at him now, he could dodge the knife, sidestep out the doorway, and then the living room would be a more open space, he could maneuver-

"Are you serious?" Jake nearly laughed, putting his hands up, small kitchen knife loosely clutched in his grip.

"Now."

"You're fucking kidding."

"Nope." Piers pointed to the counter. Jake quickly went from mild amusement to annoyance.

"Why're you always bringing up the past? I'm on your side." Jake rolled his eyes, stared at the knife in his hand, and lazily started slicing the skin off a lightly bruised apple. Under the mottled purple skin of his hands was the soft white fruit, likewise marked with tan spots. He peeled the skin off half, remembered himself, and bit into it, staring Piers down. Strange habits. Piers abandoned the knife issue (lost cause, he would just have to be on guard) and wrinkled his nose. He filled a pot full of water, keeping the corner of his eye on his unwanted houseguest. Jake rolled his eyes again, leaned back on the counter. The water spilled over Piers' hands before he realized the pot was full, and he snapped back to attention. 

"I don't believe you. Plain and simple. I've said it enough times, haven't I?" He refused to look up. Jake floundered, turning to the refrigerator and reflexively pulling it open. It was unplugged, holding no perishables, just a few ration packets that Piers was saving for a last resort. He hated that glorified space food. Jake huffed, shut it, and spun in a circle for a moment, as if waiting for something to fixate on. He picked the damn argument, and Piers watched him jab a finger in his direction to articulate his point. 

"Fuck, just because of some stupid mission-" He waved his hand, as if it were nothing. Water under the bridge. But Piers hadn't moved past that, and he wasn't about to let some arrogant criminal decide whether he had in his stead.

"Oh, excuse the fuck outta me. I'm so sorry that you have to deal with the repercussions of your actions." Piers nearly snarled the answer, slamming the pot on the stove. He left it there, forgetting to light the burner and instead turning to the box of dry pasta on the counter. He stared at it hard, trying to read the ingredients but failing miserably because Jake was talking again. He wasn't doing this. Fuck it. He walked out, on the pretense of going to close the front door properly, anything to end this conversation, but Jake followed on his heels. 

"What- The fuck is a reaper... cushion?" His tongue tripped over the word, theatrically. Asshole. "Just because you're using big fucking words that people need a damn dictionary to understand-" He walked over to the other end of the room, nearly yanked the curtain out of its moorings as he shut it. 

"The- Ugh!" Piers twisted his hand and the blinds by the desk shut with a small click. He crossed his arms, stood in the center of the room tapping his toe as Jake paced, fists clenched. "I know you know what that means!" He finished. 

"English is my second language, asshole-"

"Oh my fucking God-" Piers threw up his hands and, for a moment, considered storming out of the room. He put his hands on his ears instead, nearly about to scream. Jake was still talking, he could hear it through his palms. Yelling, even, reverberating off the thin walls. Piers felt near about ready to fucking explode.

"Shut up! Just shut up!" He screamed, louder than Jake, somehow. Jake's head turned, brow furrowed, mouth open, quiet for a blissful moment.

"I'll remind you of what you did every fucking day if I want to. You've conned one naive, overly altruistic US Government agent. Good for you. I'm not so easily fooled." Piers narrowed his eyes and stalked into the kitchen, banging the pots and pans around. He should've eaten by now, but all he could do in his fit of anger was toss the saucepan to the counter and watch the walls vibrate from the impact.

"Sherry's not naive." Jake bristled. Sore spot? Apparently, because it made him follow Piers into the kitchen, looking livid and blocking the doorway with his arms crossed. Did he think intimidation tactics like that would work? Piers could throw him across the fucking room. "You're saying 'cause everyone's not shooting me on sight, they're naive? You can blow it out your ass." 

"I didn't shoot on sight. Remember?" Piers stepped away from the counter, squared off his posture, looked up at Jake. He lifted his finger and let it point directly into his face. Something in his eyes faltered, and he jolted back a moment. The lull in forces didn't last long, and although he didn't step forward again, he retorted,

"Is it too late? Because if I have to sit through another second of this bullshit, I'll do it for you." Jake snapped, breathing out hard and stomping away, to God knew where. The apartment was small. He did a circle around the desk and flopped onto the couch again, looking sulky. Good.

"If you weren't so valuable, I'd give you the bullets myself." Piers growled, turned his back, and started to make himself something to eat. Jake could make something himself or starve. None of Piers' business.

Although, how things were going, Piers had a strong preference for the latter. 

...

Piers tossed and turned for thirty minutes before deciding to cut his losses and get up. The apartment was usually silent at this early hour, or as silent as it got while the dead still walked the streets, crawling and hissing and moaning. He heard the shifting of cloth on cloth as he entered the living room, stared blankly down at Jake's body curled on the couch. He wasn't awake quite yet, and who could blame him? it was barely five in the morning. Not even the birds stirred. But still, Piers padded his way over to the gas range, jerry-rigged to a steel canister under the counter instead of the city's gas lines. He put water on to boil, stared at the cracking, scorched finish of the kettle before tearing his eyes away and rummaging through the cupboards. Through the doorway, Jake stirred, pulling the pillow back under his head and rolling over onto his front. Piers watched him toss for a moment with an almost bored, unfocused stare, until he sighed and rolled onto his back. He didn't move after that. 

He looked his age, asleep. He looked young. Maybe it was the lack of a grimace, or how the moth-eaten quilt Piers had dug out of a closet on the second floor covered the scar across his left cheek. He wasn't threatening like this, wasn't annoying, wasn't rude.

It won't last long. He'll wake up soon, and you'll be right where you started. Piers reached behind himself and popped the lid of the kettle before the whistle could jolt his unlikely houseguest awake. He fixed a coffee, paused, and fixed another one as an afterthought. They wouldn't be able to take all of these supplies with them, so this might be his last for a while. Why not share? He wasn't guilty about last night's argument. Of course not. He was just... trying to make their brief joint partnership bearable. 

He left the coffees to sit and made his way to the desk, under the halo of papers and documents and string that crawled up the wall and bled onto the ceiling. In the centre sat a small black answering machine. Like every morning, he turned it on, put on the headset attached, and checked the transmissions he'd missed during the night. One text transmission. Two answering machine messages. One morse code transmission. He furrowed his brow, turned a few knobs, and stared at the photographs in front of him as the timestamp on the message started to play.

The photo in front of him was a shot of a grocery store with its windows blown out. Marked in red pen were what supplies had been there, and when. That might be useful, since the supply drops seemed to have petered out. 

MESSAGE AT 3:26:08 AM.

Just missed it, then.

City Hall Emergency Broadcast Center flashed on the display. A voice crackled down the line. Piers unfolded a map and consulted the circle in blue pen roughly in the center of the city.

"We're-" A woman's voice. The call fizzed. A new voice, louder and clearer, replaced it. "Two survivors in Town Hall Refuge. Please advise on best path to West Quarantine Gate." 

Piers stopped, hit a button with the cap of his pen, spoke smoothly.

"West Quarantine Gate compromised. Take Redwood Avenue up to Main Street, West on Main and follow the turn North. Exit via North Quarantine Gate." The message clicked out, and the tape inside the machine whirred as it located the next one. He marked an orange slash with his highlighter across Charles Street, all the way to the blue x that represented the West Gate.

To the left of his hand was a photo of an old cinema. The red ink in the corner read "Sturdy doors. Windows intact(grates.) Food Supply minimal. Upstairs offices with bolt and chain locks. 

Through the tape crackle, he heard Jake stir.

MESSAGE AT 1:02:56 AM.

"Contacting Operator of BSAA Outpost 332." The voice on the machine drew in a long, shaky breath. "A missing operative was spotted near your location. He is carrying extremely precious cargo. It must not fall into the wrong hands. He must not fall into the wrong hands." The call trailed off again, just quiet breathing on the line. "Piers, we've met before. I don't know you well, but-" Static. Piers tried to place the voice as he waited for it to pass. A friend of a friend of a friend. His Captain's sister's protege. Berkeley, Burton... Birkin. Jake had said something about her earlier. Sherry Birkin's voice came back in clear. "-- Trust you. Jake needs to get those samples to the lab near the West Quarantine Gate on Charles and Main as soon as possible. We can save lives." 

The transmission cut off neatly, as if the line was severed. Piers sighed, curled his hands tight to stop their shaking, and hit the message button. This was it. Their sign. Their location was neatly circled in dark marker, and Piers found himself unable to look away from it for a moment, leaving the beginning of his message filled with nothing but soft breaths until he shook his head and spoke. 

"We're coming. A few days, at most. Hold out." He said, as clearly as possible. His fingers didn't stop shaking, so he linked them tightly around each other and stared intently at the map on the desk in front of him, plotting his route. Their route. 

For the first time in two weeks since the outbreak, Piers was leaving. He tried not to be nervous at the thought. 

Jake paced back and forth. The carpet to the door to the bookshelf and back, a rough equilateral triangle with Piers in the center, who was trying to get a radio signal through. Piers gritted his teeth, stared at the radio, willed it to speak. 

"332 to Base. 332 to BSAA Head Operations. I need immediate assistance." He repeated, for the third time. Nothing but static. He changed channels. "332 to Alpha Captain Redfield. Captain Redfield, come in." There was a prayer in his voice, one that was answered in waves of static and nothing more. He pressed his forehead to the cool wood of the desk and slowly, gently pulled the headphones off. Jake's footsteps stopped behind him, and the apartment lapsed into silence. Piers felt a faint throb in the soft tissue of his chest, below his heart. For the first time, he willed Jake to speak. Come on, you moron. Make a comment. Say something about Chris or Alpha Team or how precarious my job is so I can tell you off. 

Jake defied expectations, as always. 

"What's going on?" He asked, a nervous tremor in his voice. 

"You couldn't tell? No answer." Piers snapped back, returning the antenna to its post. 

"Dammit... We need to head out before sunrise if we're going to avoid the worst of the crowds." Jake muttered, stating the fucking obvious. Thanks.

"I'm aware." Piers ground his knuckles into his closed eyelids until he saw stars. 

"Then let's do it. No reinforcements. Buddy cop style." Jake almost seemed to take a morbid excitement in this.

What a great movie this would make. Me, myself and my worst enemy. The tactical operation from Hell. Piers shook his head, stood, and unclenched his hands. The sooner they left, the sooner it would be over, he told himself, and started to pull his coat on, gather his gear. 

Jake grinned. "That's the spirit!"

"Shut up." Piers snapped. Jake laughed in response, turned his back and started out the door.

This was going to be a long few days.


	3. piers: iii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter gets better i pwomise, i just had to set up the universe and give them a minute to stop hating each other lel

Did the dead sleep? Piers wasn't sure. For one, they seemed to go into a sort of stupor in the dark, ceasing movement and often lying on the floor, like an energy-conserving state. But their eyes never closed, and when something moving passed by, they responded quickly, giving chase. Luckily, their senses were abominable, and they were heinously stupid. Even Jake and Piers managed to slip around them with minimal engagement. 

It annoyed him that they were relatively competent as a team, for entirely petty reasons. 

As the sun rose, they took to the rooftops, quickly traversing several city blocks on fire escapes and telephone poles and fallen tree branches. It must have been 11AM by the time they reached their first checkpoint, the relatively untouched grocery store a few miles out. 

The sun was scorching, for once, the usual protective layer of clouds refusing to show themselves. Piers' black combat outfit, while protective and comfortable, was threatening to burn him alive. Jake wasn't looking much better, sweat beading on his neck and cheeks and under the collar of the stupid leather duster. People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, but Piers was tempted regardless to say something about it. He pressed his lips together instead. Something about Jake Muller made Piers more impulsive than he should be. It wasn't a good look for him. 

Piers made a small noise of pain when his feet hit the hard concrete, sending jolts of shock up his ankles. Jake hit the ground harder, his heavy-soled boots making a loud noise that reverberated down the back alley. Around the corner came the sound of movement, and Piers scrambled to his feet, throwing open the heavy back door to the grocery and leaping through. Jake followed on his heels, and nearly bowled him over. Quickly, reaching around Jake's arm, Piers threw the deadbolt and stood still. They froze, pressed claustrophobically into a small alley between towers of crates and boxes. Mostly garbage or rotted food by now, so old that the smell was almost gone. Piers cocked his head and listened. The footsteps outside shambled down the alley and passed the door with no hesitation. He nodded, and let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. 

They stood there a moment, silence ringing around them. Piers listened for signs of life among the crates and shelving, but the only thing he heard was the shifting and sighing of the floorboards under his feet and the loud pounding of a heartbeat, pressed to his ear. Jake was breathing hard. He turned his head, saying nothing, pale eyes flickering quickly between the rows of metal shelves. The quiet sound of Piers letting go of the trigger on his rifle may as well have been a gunshot. Neither of them moved, looking in opposite directions, catching their breath. They were too close. Piers didn’t like it. He could feel his skin crawl. Jake remained still, not even looking at him. Piers let his fingers drop from the doorknob that secured the back door, and stepped away from Jake, barely even thinking about it. A sound rang out in the stale air. A tuning fork being struck, metal scraping over a concrete floor. There wasn't enough room to move backwards from where Piers stood, so he’d knocked into a metal shelf, sending a shock through the frame, throwing the whole thing off balance. Jake's eyes widened, and he bolted forward, grabbing a hold of one of the metal supports before the whole structure gave way. A few rotten fruits shook loose, and fell to the ground with an unappetizing splat. The dust settled, and Jake cursed under his breath. 

"Careful." He chastised, feeling around to make sure the shelving unit wasn't about to collapse again. This left them in a worse situation than when they started, pressed chest to chest, Jake's arms curled behind Piers' shoulders. Piers bristled. Stop that. We aren’t friends. Stop touching me. Jake didn’t seem to notice his hostile air, or if he did, it didn’t bother him. 

“You’re the one talking about drawing attention to ourselves. I’d rather not die in the back of a grocery store, if it’s all the same to you.” The corner of Jake’s mouth turned up. He seemed to think he was funny. That made Piers’ mood worse. 

"Sorry." He remembered himself and nodded shortly, ducking under Jake's forearm and continuing out of the storage room. Jake trailed behind, the sound of him checking the safety on his pistol reverberating through the air. 

The supermarket smelled stale, like slowly decaying dry foods. Piers crouched down by one of the shelves, squinting at the contents. Jake hovered by his shoulder, looking around like he was nervous. Piers glanced up at him, wrinkling his nose. “We’ll only be here for a couple minutes. Just grab whatever’s still canned or sealed.”

“What happened to your supply line?”

“Supply drops stopped a week ago.” 

“But you said-“

“Why do you think the BSAA didn’t answer our calls? They’ve left me here, to-“ He stopped, looked back at the shelf. To die. He didn’t say the words, but they still hung in the air. “Thought it was self-explanatory.” 

“Self-“ Jake breathed out harshly, ran his hand across the top of his head. Piers squared his shoulders, ready for an argument, but Jake just looked down at him, an unreadable expression on his face. That was the best way to describe him. Unreadable. Good thing Piers didn’t care. They stared each other down for a few seconds, until Jake snapped his head away. Without another word, he walked over to the other side of the room and diligently started rummaging through shelves. 

“How are we feeling about canned peas?” Jake called, the top of his head peeking over the shelf. Piers snorted.

“Does anybody have a strong opinion on canned peas?” He called back.

“They’re alright. Not as good as those little baby corns, though.” Piers caught himself smiling at that. He quickly pulled a face. It wasn’t even funny. He turned his attention to the shelf in front of him. It had been largely ignored by looters because it was tipped over onto the ground, but a few items remained trapped underneath. He lifted it up and took stock. Mostly first aid. Bandages, alcohol wipes, over-the-counter painkillers. Tampons. Condoms. He threw it all into his bag without really thinking. When he was done he turned, braced himself on the edge of the shelving unit, and prepared to stand. 

He hadn’t heard Jake walk up, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he brushed by him. 

“Christ, don’t sneak up on me like that.” Piers snapped. Jake shrugged, looking mildly apologetic. Piers gritted his teeth, but before he could tell him off-

“What’d you find?” Jake reached into the bag, without permission, grabbed a hold of a bottle of Tylenol and squinted at the label. Something crinkled at the bottom of the bag, and he tilted his head. 

“First aid stuff.” Piers replied shortly, trying to push his hand away. Nosy bastard. Jake ignored him, digging his hand in further, finally locating the source of the sound and yanking out... 

God, he was never going to hear the end of this. 

“Fuck you need these for?” Jake grinned, holding up a shiny purple condom wrapper. Piers yanked it out of his hand and threw it back into the bag, grabbing the handle and tossing it up onto his shoulder before Jake could try to grab it back. 

“I’m in the habit of giving whatever i can to whatever survivors are still left in this area. It’ll just rot here if I don’t take it, anyway.” He nodded at the two sets of footprints in the dust and dirt on the floor- this place hadn’t been touched since the initial outbreak. Jake didn’t look convinced, standing up and looming over Piers. Piers crossed his arms and glared up at him. 

“Yeah, and this city is just crawling with people in desperate need of contraception.” Jake drawled.

“That’s a ten dollar word.” Piers hissed, hopping to his feet. 

“Thanks. I figure if I use enough big words, you’ll finally listen to what i’m saying.” Jake rolled his eyes. Piers dipped his head and glanced behind him, squinting at the small set of stairs at the back of the store. Hopefully those lead to the roof, they were going to need to get back up there if they wanted to make it to shelter by dark. He also desperately wanted to escape this conversation, because he would rather die than have Jacob Muller, wanted mercenary and full-time criminal, ragging him about his sex life. 

“Don’t count on it.” Piers snapped, spun on his heel, and started climbing the stairs. 

By the time evening had fallen, they’d kicked down the door to a sixth-floor apartment and gone about making it into a home for the night. Together in silence, they’d prepared and eaten something small and Piers had quickly beat a retreat to the rooftop, a last-ditch attempt to have some alone time. The city was deadly silent, as usual. Piers glanced down at the deserted street below him, skimming over dilapidated houses and storefronts, trying to piece together what it might have looked like before the C-Virus had flooded the taps of every building in the whole city. It might’ve been a neighborhood before, now just a rotten-smelling, virus infested wasteland. He caught a glimpse of a formerly-lit yellow awning a couple miles off. Checkpoint Three loomed above the buildings beside it, mirrored outside reflecting the sun’s orange final rays. An old movie theater, nearly in disrepair even before the outbreak, and now.... Well. Piers curled his legs under himself and leaned back into the dusty-smelling wicker fabric of the lawnchair. His fingers played absentmindedly with a fraying edge, starting to unravel it. Behind him, he heard footsteps, mounting the stairs and pushing at the misshapen metal door that made a groove along the floor when it swung open. Jake stepped out into the cooling evening air and stopped in place. For a moment he seemed to consider something, the quiet click of a lighter cap being closed, opened, closed again. Piers didn’t look up, concentrating on sending out his best “get lost” vibes. It was in vain, however, because Jake eventually took those last two steps forward and flopped into the other chair, sending clouds of dust flying. 

"Don't start." Piers muttered through his teeth.

"Start what?" Jake glanced over, tucking his hands behind his head. His dirty boots were pressed up to the fabric of the chair. Any other time Piers would have torn him a new one (Where were his manners?) but the damn thing was already so tattered that he’d feel like a hypocrite. Instead he trained his eyes on the setting sun, glaring into it until its shape imprinted itself as a little red burn on his vision.

"Don’t start an argument. I'm trying to enjoy this." Piers didn’t look at him, stared at the sun until the red imprint threatened to blind him.

"You're the one who always starts it, anyway." Jake laughed.

“Quit it. I'm serious." Piers caught himself laughing back, against his will. Twisted his mouth into a frown instead. For a moment, neither of them spoke. He preferred it.

"I'm not really sure how to talk to you... without starting anything." Jake sighed, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 

"Jesus. Then, in the interest of making this little detour less... unbearable, let's start over. I don't know you, you don't know me. We can go back to hating each other when this is over." 

Piers stuck out his hand.

"Nivans-" He paused. "No, Piers."

"Hand shaking? Seems a little antiquated, don'tcha-" Jake started, quirking a brow and glancing at Piers’ outstretched hand. Piers shot him a look. 

"Remember what I said? Clean slate." 

"I'm Jake." He said, eventually, as though it was the biggest inconvenience he’d ever suffered. Then he grasped Piers’ hand and shook. His hand was warm, a small white line denoting a long-healed scar across the thumb, spanning from first to second knuckle. Firm grip. Confident handshake. For some reason, that surprised Piers. He wondered how much hand-shaking mercenaries got up to, if any. 

"What do you do, Jake? I'm a communications officer." Piers withdrew his hand and nodded personably. Like this was work and they were colleagues. He knew what ground he stood on. Colleague was an easy relationship to navigate. 

"I'm a... freelancer. With the government, for the moment." He brushed his thumb across his mouth and leaned back in his seat, cracking a smile. Piers chuckled. A correct statement, if a little flowery. 

"Isn't that... interesting. How d'you like it?" Jake froze up, gaze darting around the balcony, to the railing to the dead potted plants to Piers’ face. He looked like he was about to speak, his lips moving, but no sound came out. He took a deep breath, snapped his gaze from Piers to the concrete floor of the balcony. 

"All right, I suppose. Better than nothing." He eventually replied, still looking away. They continued on like that for another little while, filling the air with small talk that started to feel less and less forced. Like they were work acquaintances, two people partnered on a project. Nothing more than that. Eventually, they lapsed into amicable silence, enjoying their moment of peace while it lasted.


	4. piers: iv

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is sooo much dialogue in this one. I tried to cut some but it's still super talk-heavy. Sorry.
> 
> Anyway I have the outline for the next chapter so that one'll probably be out relatively soon. Thanks to everybody who bookmarked even though this garbage fire never updates. You're all the real MVPs.

The next day was early. They woke at the crack of dawn, quickly and silently donning their gear and stuffing their backpacks full of whatever canned goods the apartment had in its pantry. Piers felt strange as they left the doorway one before the other, Jake gently nudging him forward with a few fingertips between his shoulderblades. 

“How far to Checkpoint Three?” Jake asked casually.

“A few hours, but we need to hole up in there for at least a couple nights.”

“What are you talking about? We need to get the sample to Sherry as soon as possible, we don’t have time to-“ 

Piers quickly spun on his heel, stopping in the middle of the hallway and looking up at Jake. The other man nearly slammed into him, stopping himself with only a couple inches of space between them. He huffed and started to argue again, but Piers held up a hand, and he miraculously stopped. Piers blinked. He really hadn’t expected that to work. Jake had never shut up on command, why was he starting to do it now? Piers pressed on before Jake changed his mind. 

“We need to secure a power supply for our radio transmitter. There’s a checkpoint gate in the middle of the city that won’t open unless we contact the personnel stationed there.”

“I thought you said they’d abandoned us.” 

Us? Since when was there an us? Piers shook his head before his mind ran away with that thought. 

“We have to try. It’s our only option, unless you want to scale twenty feet of electrified barbed wire.”

“I’ve done worse.” Jake shrugged. Piers gave him a sharp look. He laughed. 

“But I see your point. We can contact Sherry, too, maybe get a better idea of where that lab is.” 

“Good idea.” Piers couldn’t believe he was saying it. The words felt strange on his tongue. The corner of Jake’s mouth turned up, and he nodded, reaching around Piers and pushing the stairwell door open. He gestured into the open space with his free hand. 

“After you.” Piers nodded and lead the way down the stairwell and out the back exit. 

\---

“I’m... curious about something.” Piers spoke slowly, hesitantly, as he gripped the cold metal rungs of the ladder and lifted himself up. From above him, Jake reached the top and leaned back over, extending a hand. He did it quickly and smoothly, as though it was second nature. Again Piers was vexed by the familiarity, annoyed both because he hadn’t asked it of Jake and because Jake seemed so ready to give it, as though there was no bad blood at all. Nothing between them but a working relationship and a few mutual friends. Piers still hadn’t forgiven him for Edonia. Why should he? It had only been a few months since Jake had tried to start a fight with his superior officer unprovoked. A lesser man than Chris would’ve taken the bait. Piers tried not to think about where that left himself. It was still less than a year since Jake’s split from the mercenary lifestyle. Did he still have a price on his head, or had the US Government pardoned him on the “hero” account? Piers was reluctant to believe that a person could change that quickly and that absolutely. He was meant to believe that Sherry had simply walked into this man’s life and turned it around? Saving the world (for Jake had, unfortunately) could account for the change, but Piers suspected it might be... something else. He was stuck on Sherry again. She was an unknown variable in this. What kind of influence did she exert over Jake? 

Too many questions. He took Jake’s hand, gripping tight as though Jake might go back on it halfway through and open his fingers, letting Piers crash back down to the street. Jake pulled him up the rest of the way, until they were standing together on the gravel rooftop. He looked over at Piers, releasing his hand and letting his own fall to his side.

“Is this a question, or are you interrogating me again?” He raised a brow. Piers crossed his arms. 

“Perfectly voluntary, of course. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” Jake nodded at that. 

“Shoot.” He said at long last.

“I’ve been thinking about you.” Piers said. Jake’s eyebrows shot up. 

“Really-“ Piers pressed on before Jake could finish. 

“And your past.” Jake’s expression soured at that, and he leaned back on his heels. 

“Of course.” He said darkly. “But that’s not a question.” 

“I’m getting to that part.” Piers sighed, gesturing over his shoulder and starting to move across the rooftop. Jake fell in beside him, and for a moment there was nothing to be heard besides the crunch of their boots on the gravel. When Piers had decided what to say, he spoke.

“What could Sherry have possibly said to make you leave it all behind? I’ve read your file, you’ve been a hired gun since you were sixteen. Why the sudden change of heart? Are you two-“ Piers stopped. How was he supposed to say this? “Is she...?”

There was a sharp intake of breath from the man next to him. Piers looked over at Jake, brow furrowed. What he saw just confused him further. Jake was... laughing? He had to clap a hand over his mouth to stifle his wheezing, eyes screwed shut and shoulders shaking. After a few seconds of this, he took a deep breath and let it out slow. When he stopped, his hands still shook, and a lopsided grin was plastered across his face. He turned his gaze on Piers and stopped again, right by the edge of the rooftop. Being pinned under that look made Piers’ stomach twist in a way that was strange... but not altogether unpleasant. He gave himself another mental shake. Jake looked him in the eye as he continued. In the glare from the sun, his eyes shone blue. 

“Is she my girlfriend? Is that what you’re asking?” He wiped the corner of his eye with the heel of his hand. Piers bristled. 

“I said you didn’t have to answer, no need to be obtuse-“ He snapped, but Jake interrupted him. 

“She’s... no. Not that.” He laughed again, running a hand over the top of his head. His lips twisted into a shy smile. “She’s still special to me, though.”

“How so?” Piers prodded.

“There’s something about her. She’s so uniquely, innately good. She’s been through hard times, just like me, but...” Jake sighed. He pulled his gaze away from Piers’ face and fixed it on the rooftop across from them. Between them and the next building was a narrow gap, maybe seven or eight feet. More importantly, a huge crowd of infected had congregated in the alley below, pouring through a newly smashed door into the building below them. It was only a matter of time before they made their way up here. Jake glanced over at Piers as if he was weighing something in his head. After a few seconds he appeared to come to a conclusion, taking a knee and lacing his fingers together in front of him, palms up. Piers stared down at him blankly. Jake huffed.

“We’ve gotta cross.” He said, as if that cleared anything up. Piers was acutely aware of where the conversation had ended, it hung in the air around them. Jake didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t care. 

“This conversation isn’t over.” Piers said. 

“I know.” Jake met his eyes and nodded. “C’mon, get over here. I’ll boost you over. I’ve seen you do it with Redfield.” 

“Are you sure you can-“ Piers started, stepping forward hesitantly.

“If I wanted to pitch you off a roof, I’d’ve done it already. Hurry up, I think I can hear some of those C bastards coming.” Piers debated with himself for a moment, but Jake was right, the sounds of the infected banging at the door to the roof were only getting louder. First it was one set of fists, then two, and quickly enough it reached a crescendo. The door began to bend under the weight of their bodies, pressed into the gap, making the deadbolt strain. 

So Piers pressed the sole of his boot into Jake’s locked hands. He braced his hand on Jake’s shoulder, leaning down to his ear. 

“Drop me and I’ll kill you.” Piers said evenly. Jake laughed and turned his head towards Piers, breath warm on his cheek.

“I won’t.” He said simply, and Piers tucked his chin into his own neck and pushed his foot down onto Jake’s hands, extending his legs to launch himself into the air while Jake pushed from beneath. He got a decent amount of air, enough to clear the knee-high fencing around the edge of the opposite roof. Piers tucked his legs into his chest and hit the rooftop rolling, eventually coming to a stop and using the rest of his momentum to hop to his feet. He raised an arm. Gave Jake a thumbs-up. Jake nodded in return. Behind him, the metal of the door began to squeal, the hinges cracking like gunshots, about to give way at any moment. 

Jake moved back a few steps and took a running leap, boots neatly clearing the railing at the edge of the rooftop and landing with a thud on the other side. In a moment of flair, he raised his hands above his head and pressed his heels together, like a little kid at a gymnastics recital. Piers couldn’t help but laugh. Jake smiled back.

“Eight out of ten. Watch your form on the landing.” Piers quipped. Jake pulled a face. The first hinge on the door burst, and hands began to claw into the space, dead eyes staring in their direction. They glanced at each other, grabbed their packs and their guns, and booked it across the next couple rooftops. 

When they were sure they’d outrun them, they slowed down, moving at a much more sustainable pace. Jake picked up where he left off, as Piers reached down and hauled him up a wall. “For me, the dead parents, the shitty childhood, the mercenary thing- it made me hard. I buried everything I thought made me weak. It didn’t do that to her. Her hard times- they made her strong, but she didn’t stop being kind. She was kind to me, even at the beginning, when I was such a little fucking tool.” 

Piers laughed in shock. He couldn’t believe Jake had said that. Jake arched an eyebrow and glanced over at him. 

“I know you think it’s true. And I know you think I’m still like that. It’s fine, I really was an absolute piece of shit. I’ve done a lot of things I regret.” He threw his hands up for a moment, as if in surrender. 

“But I dunno. Sherry told me that being strong means protecting the things that are important to you and standing up for what you think is right. Not just looking out for yourself. So, I said, starting now, I’m going to stick up for the stuff I believe in. I’m going to use my skills to unfuck the world a little, try to fix the things my father ruined. I think I owe everyone that much.” He ended his speech with a sigh, waving his hand flippantly and fixing his eyes on the city skyline. Piers didn’t speak for a moment, processing everything he’d heard. Of course, he could be lying. Stranger things had happened. But Piers didn’t think that was the case. Jake seemed genuinely remorseful, committed to making right the things he’d done. It was a complete one-eighty from the Jake that had pulled a pistol on Chris, the Jake that had so gleefully picked fights with Piers. For a moment, Piers entertained a body-snatcher situation, but that wasn’t likely. It wasn’t a bump to the head, either. Jake was still himself, still annoying, grandstanding, overconfident. He just had a new lease on life. Sherry really had done a number on him, hadn’t she? 

“The circumstances of your birth can’t be helped, and don’t get me wrong- all this ‘righting his wrongs’ stuff is admirable, really.” Piers sighed. “But you’d do well to remember that you’re not your father. You’re not responsible for his actions.” Jake shook his head. 

“Maybe, but the fact is that the whole goddamn world sees me as a ticking time bomb, just another Wesker waiting to happen. Before China, I believed them, I really did. But now... I’m going to prove them wrong.”

“I... can’t believe I’m about to say this, but... That’s big of you, Jake.” Jake grinned over at him. 

“You almost sounded friendly there, buddy. Are you getting soft on me?” He teased, reaching out and patting him on the shoulder.

“Never."

\---

Jake and Piers fell into an easy rhythm now, like something had clicked. Unfortunately, Piers found himself trusting Jake’s judgement more and more. They didn’t talk much for the rest of the day aside from a few moments of problem-solving when an obstacle presented itself, like the broken fire escape they found themselves staring at now. They’d intended to hop from one of the blown-out windows to the safety of the next building (circumventing more barbed wire fencing) but now found themselves at a dead end. Piers held his hand up to shield his eye from the sun and scanned the rooftop, ground, wall, hoping to find something they’d missed. The fire escape had been torn clean off the wall in some places, and was barely clinging to the brick in others. The sturdiest part was the very top, where the supports had been forced into the concrete, but it was at least 20 feet up. Piers winced, glancing back over his shoulder into the dark gullet of the abandoned factory they’d just left. 

“We could go back to the street? Maybe there’s another way around...”

“No way we’re climbing that junk heap. We gotta go through here.” He was, of course, referring to the burnt-out corpses of two cars and a truck piled up in their path, back at street level. Jake crossed his arms, staring up at the fire escape as if simply looking at it was going to make a new exit appear. After nearly a minute of silence, Jake clapped his hands together. Piers jumped and looked up from the screen of the locator strapped to his wrist. Jake dropped to a knee and started rustling around in his backpack. Piers walked over and kneeled next to him, glancing curiously into the contents of Jake’s pack. It contained a camera, two radios, rations, and a Ziploc bag. Piers leaned closer. It was stuffed full of papers and photos, some bearing the official gold seal of the BSAA, some not. The photo on top, pressed to the plastic, was labeled “Kijuju” in neat red lettering. A man in a black coat ducked into a crumbling storefront. 

“Do you have rope?” Jake asked, snapping the pack shut. Piers reached into his bag and pulled out a neat roll of synthetic cable. Jake blinked when Piers dropped it into his hand.

“I didn’t... expect you to actually have any!” He almost laughed. Piers shrugged.

“BSAA Standard issue field kit.” He supplied. Jake scoffed.

“What else you got in that thing?” He crossed his arms. 

“Classified.” Piers smirked.

“Classi- Fuck it.” Jake side-stepped Piers, reaching around to unzip his pack. 

“Jake!” Piers protested half-heartedly, shaking his shoulders to try and push Jake away. Jake ignored him.

“Climbing stakes? Binoculars? Damn, why are you better outfitted than me?” 

“I outrank you.” Piers muttered grumpily. He could almost hear Jake roll his eyes in response.

“You’re a field scout.” 

“And you’re a temp worker.” 

"Ouch." Jake hissed. Piers laughed in response. A few seconds later, he heard the sound of his pack being zipped back up. He turned back around as Jake reached down and snapped a piece of thick wire from a nearby scrap pile with a small pair of pliers. He reached around and grabbed another piece. Piers tilted his head. What was he...

He was arranging the bent wire into three hooks. 

“A grappling hook. Good thinking.” Jake glanced up from where he was binding three pieces of wire together and grinned. He lifted his makeshift hook and stepped to the opening, where he paused. 

“You coming?” Jake called back to him. Piers sighed and jogged up. 

“Hold this end, in case it falls.” Piers nodded. Jake lifted the grappling hook in his right hand, spinning it a few times before tossing it upwards where it caught on one of the supports. He pulled back, and the rope went taut. 

“On three.” 

They both grabbed onto the rope, gripping tight. 

“One... Two... Three.” 

They jumped. The rope caught on a crossbar, and they settled after a few swings to hang precariously in the air, some sixty feet above the ground. They'd fallen into inertia quickly enough, but still they swung back and forth slightly. It made Piers indescribably nervous, so he did what he always did and tried not to let it show. They were close again, Jake's jacket sleeves brushing against Piers' chest. Jake glanced up. 

“After you.” He released one hand from the rope and pointed it upward. Piers bit his lip. It was only about twenty feet to the top. He lifted one of his hands and started to haul himself up the rope, hand over hand, trying desperately to not look down. Quickly enough he reached the top, pulling himself up through the doorframe in the wall. Once at the top, he pulled the rope until Jake could grab his hand. 

This warehouse was empty, all the walls knocked out save for a few concrete pillars. Through the window facing the street the lights on the theatre marquee blinked on and off. 

\---

That night they slept in the top floor of a low-rise apartment building next door to the theater. They’d have to find a better way in when it was light- breaking the front door down would make too much noise. They draped their sleeping bags across the living room floor, set up the lantern, and scrounged some gas from one of the houses connected by their backyard for the stove. 

They stood together in the scuffed-up kitchen, pouring ingredients into a pot for soup. 

“Alright, now it’s my turn.” Jake opened a cabinet, making a face at the contents. Just some mouldering cereal. 

“Your turn?” Piers asked, confused. 

“To interrogate you.” Jake grinned back at him, opening another cabinet and grabbing a can opener. 

“Fair enough. Here, stir this.” Piers handed him a wooden spoon and he did as instructed, staring down into the soup. Piers returned to his cutting board and started chopping the tomatoes, patiently waiting for Jake to speak.

“What’s the deal with Chris Redfield?” He asked, evenly, quietly. Piers glanced over at him, but he was staring out the window. 

“He and your f-“ Piers paused when Jake winced at the f-word, bit his lip. “He and Wesker go a long way back. There’s a lot of bad blood there. Chris was one of the only survivors of the Raccoon City Incident, and as you know, Wesker was...” He stopped. There wasn’t really any need to continue. They both knew what had happened in 1998.

“You can say it. Raccoon City was Wesker’s fault. The blood of everyone who died in that outbreak is on his hands.” Jake’s voice was shot through with gravel, and he still refused to look Piers in the eye. Piers sighed, reaching over with the vegetables cupped in his hands and dropping them into the pot. Jake began to crush bits of garlic with a fork, seemingly intent on his task. 

“Yes. On top of that, I think Chris and Wesker were friends. You know, before everything went south in Raccoon.” Piers flicked the burner on and watched the blue flame lick the bottom of the cast iron pot. The idea of Chris and Wesker as friends was... disconcerting. 

“Yikes.” Jake breathed out, hard. 

“So you can see why he... did what he did.” Piers said softly. 

“Launched my dad into a volcano?” Jake’s voice had a bit of an aggressive edge, but his expression was blank. 

“That information’s classified.” Piers blinked. Where had he heard that? 

“Yeah, but I think Redfield felt bad about the whole China thing. You know, when I-“ Jake waved the spoon flippantly. 

“When you held a gun to his head?” Piers prompted.

“When you held a gun to mine?” Jake snapped back.

“I was protecting my superior officer.” Piers said stiffly. Jake nodded.

“I know. I shouldn’t have started it, I just...” He sighed again, absentmindedly stirring with the spoon. “When I was standing there, and he was right across from me, it sounded like bragging. Like he was glad I didn’t have a father.” 

Jesus. Piers remembered the way Jake had looked that day, all wild-eyed and desperately trying to understand his place in the world. The man who had clashed with Chris in China barely resembled the man standing beside Piers now. There was a different steadiness to him, as though he had calmed slightly, reigned in his anger, his fear. For a moment, Piers forgot about their arguments, the exchanged insults in Edonia, the skirmishes in China. He looked up at Jake with new eyes and found that he didn’t at all dislike what he saw.

Jake was looking back at him, with the corner of his mouth turned up in a tentative smile, pale blue eyes glowing in the sunlight peeking through the window blinds. The dying light lay against his skin in little stripes. His hair was getting shaggy, starting to curl tightly against his head. Now that it was longer, it had become apparent that it was bright red, and it glowed gold when the sun hit it at just the right angle. Piers finally looked at Jake, really looked at him, and he felt his heart skip against his ribcage. He couldn’t pinpoint it, but there was something about Jake, some sort of magnetism that Piers had failed to notice before. Maybe it was the self-sure attitude, or the way he always seemed to know which buttons to push, the exact right thing to say. Even the razor-thin scar across his cheek seemed... charming. 

This was going to be a problem. 

Piers pulled his eyes away from Jake’s face and bit his tongue to keep it from saying something stupid. 

“Chris was... unhinged, by the end of it. I don’t think he meant it like that.” He muttered. In reality, he didn’t know what Chris had meant, or why he’d decided to provoke Jake by taunting him with his father. It reminded him that Chris would always be a mystery, a train of thought he could never fully follow. 

“I know that now. Anyway, Redfield called me up a month back. Sent me all the BSAA files pertinent to my f-“ Jake breathed out, hard. “To Wesker. I think he felt bad about how things went down.” 

“He’s in therapy now. He and Jill go together.” Piers supplied. 

“Jill Valentine? That’s nice.” 

“Yeah, it is, I just...” Piers chewed the inside of his cheek, staring at the blue flame, turning it up to high and adding salt and pepper. “I wish he’d been there instead of in China. I had my orders to bring him back to active duty, so I did. I should have known, but I didn’t until he was out for Radames’ blood and by then it was too late.”

“What were you supposed to have done?” Jake’s brows pulled together and he tilted his head. Piers reached into the pot and began to spoon soup into two bowls. 

“I don’t know? Put him on a plane back home? Called his sister or Jill? I had their numbers, could’ve had him hit the ground running right into a therapist’s office. Maybe China would have been different, worked out differently.” He tried to keep a neutral tone, but just voicing this out loud felt like a betrayal. Nobody had ever really acknowledged the damage Piers had done to Chris in China, not even Piers himself. But now that he had, he felt the guilt begin to weigh on him. It felt like a physical weight on his chest, a compression bandage, making it hard for him to breathe. 

“But instead, I followed my orders from head office like a good little lieutenant and threw him and his budding case of PTSD right back into battle.” Piers nearly spat the words, chest compressing further. He picked up the bowls, carrying them over to the battered table in the corner of the kitchen upon which Jake had already laid out the rest of the kitchenware. 

“He doesn’t blame you.” Jake remarked. Piers felt his gut twist. He’d followed orders, and it had hurt somebody. He’d pushed Chris back into battle, and Chris had consequently become so blinded by rage that he got everybody in Alpha Team killed. Piers could barely live with the knowledge that his mistakes had a body count.

“Maybe he should.” Piers said, softly. Jake looked at him from across the table, head tipped to one side, eyes soft with... was that sympathy?

“You were just following orders.” He said gruffly. The look was gone from Jake’s face. Piers decided it must have been a trick of the light. 

“I would have disobeyed them. For him, I would have.” Piers sighed, stirring the soup to let the steam escape. Jake didn’t speak for a moment, face thoughtful. 

“Well, it’s like you said earlier. No use beating yourself up over the past.” He met Piers’ eye and nodded. Piers felt himself smile in response. Jake grinned back. They started to eat, and for a moment everything was quiet. In true Jake Muller fashion, that didn’t last very long. Jake raised his fork and pointed it at Piers, cocking an eyebrow.

“Besides, that wasn’t my question.” He said, around a mouthful of peas. Piers shot him a look and tossed a napkin into his lap. 

“At least cover your mouth if you’re going to do that.” Piers snapped. Jake rolled his eyes and lifted the napkin to cover his nose and mouth. 

“Better?” Even behind the paper, Piers could see Jake’s mouth curve in a smile. 

“Much.” Piers glared back. He’d lost his train of thought, and he took a sip of water before prompting Jake,

“What do you mean?”

“What's Redfield to you? He’s not...?”

Not what? For a moment, Piers was confused, until he noticed the smile on Jake’s face, the tilt of his head, the suggestive tone in his voice-

Oh.

“No. Uh, absolutely not.” If there was a hint of bitterness in his voice, well... He just hoped Jake didn’t pick up on it. Jake nodded, and they lapsed into silence. This time, Piers broke it. He gasped and stood up from his chair, stepping over to the window and sticking his head out. There was an extremely narrow, barely legal laneway separating the movie theater and the apartment block. And the large window directly opposite theirs was wide open. Jake turned around.

“We found our way in.” He grinned.


	5. piers: v

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey it took longer than I thought but it's here! I know nothing really happened this time around but the word count was getting high- I promise the next one will have actual like......... things happening.............. My attention has been divided between this and another fic in the works- if you like this one you'll probably like the other one as well, and it'll be coming your way soon once I get more of the draft written. Thx to the 3 people that still read this & thx to my buddy Jaden for all the great beta work for chapters 1-4. Chapter 6 probably sometime in August. Get hype

After they ate, they spent a few minutes passing their bags through the windows.

The theater still smelled like popcorn. There were no bodies, no zombies, presumably because the theater had been closed when the outbreak hit. Piers thought he heard some noises from the basement, but the door was securely locked. The theater was small, and most of the rooms besides the bathrooms were padlocked. Somehow, between now and yesterday, someone had tripped the switch that engaged the awning lights. Piers made a mental note to stay on his guard. 

They holed up in the open office, pushing all the computers and desks to the side. The room was square and lightless save for a few lamps and two small windows affixed high in the wall. The walls were almost covered completely with faded movie posters, pasted over each other. The emptiness of this place put Piers on edge. He didn’t like how quiet it was. He settled into his corner of the office with his lantern and his battered paperback as soon as he could, but Jake appeared to have other plans.

“Did you see a key for the screening rooms?” He paced back and forth, the thud of his boots on the linoleum floor echoing loudly in the confined space. 

“Check the key rings by the back door.” Piers didn’t even look up from his well-loved copy of Catcher in the Rye. Jake took one look at him and scoffed. He crouched down and sat cross-legged in front of Piers. 

“What’cha reading?” He tilted the cover back with a finger so he could read the title on the spine. Piers yanked it away. 

“Oh, those boring American novels.” Jake rolled his eyes. Piers snapped the book shut and shoved it back into his bag. 

“Bold accusation coming from somebody I’m not entirely certain can read.” Piers drawled, and Jake bristled in response. 

“I can read! Those’re all bourgeois propaganda, anyway. They warned us not to trust your American literature in school.” He waved a hand flippantly. 

“Spell that word for me. I dare you.” Piers challenged him, leaning back into the wall and raising his eyebrows. Jake crossed his arms.

“Uh, let’s see... B-O-O-R-J-“ He started, counting letters on his fingers. Piers interrupted him, shaking his head.

“Nope.” He laughed. Jake winced.

“Shut up. You wanna watch a movie or not?” He retorted. Piers sighed, kicking his sleeping bag off and hopping to his feet. 

“Yeah.” Piers said, resigned. Jake nodded, stood, and motioned for Piers to follow him. 

They detoured to the first floor to grab the ring of keys from beside the door, and spent a few minutes trying them until they found the right one. 

The theater was cavernous and dark, the screen blank and the rows of seats empty. A small door labeled “Employees Only” was to the right of the entrance, and Piers thumbed through the ring of keys until he found one labeled “projector” on a piece of green tape. They climbed the steep stairs ahead of them in silence. The projector room was empty just like the theater, with the projector sitting inert on a cart. It was an ancient analog thing, clearly hauled up here for a showing of older films and left to gather dust when the outbreak hit. A few rolls of film lay beside it in circular plastic casing with faded, unreadable labels. Piers lifted one of them to the light, trying to read the smudged lettering. No dice. He set it back down with a sigh. 

He’d already halfway turned back around when he bumped into something. Jake was right behind him, reaching out for one of the film canisters, blocking Piers’ path. Piers stopped still. Again with the personal space violations. What was he thinking? Unprofessional, that was par for the course. But for whatever reason, this time Piers wasn’t able to step away. Jake lifted one of the canisters and weighed it in his hand. His shoulder was pressed to Piers’. There was maybe an inch between them, maybe less. As far as Piers could tell, Jake was oblivious to the silence that had fallen in the room, rubbing his fingernail over the tape on the canister, trying to scrape away some of the dust. That stupid shirt Jake wore was undone at the top, and Piers found himself staring at that open triangle of skin...

He bit down on his own tongue, hard. 

Don’t. 

He looked to the side instead, still not able to move, or maybe not wanting to. Jake might have been close enough to hear Piers’ heart batter itself against his ribcage, but if he did, he kept it to himself. For that, Piers was grateful. Jake breathed out, and Piers could feel it ruffle his hair. He set the canister down on the cart with a loud clang. The noise came as a shock, ringing in the silence. Piers jumped slightly, just enough to accidentally bump the top of his head on Jake’s chin. Stars flashed in his eyes for a moment, and he heard Jake’s teeth clack together. Jake stumbled back a little, cursing under his breath. Piers almost laughed, but he managed to choke it down at the last second. Whoops. 

“What’re you so jumpy for?” Jake tilted his chin down and met Piers’ eye as he rubbed his jaw. Piers shrugged.

“You’re... close.” He supplied after a moment, speaking softly. Jake raised an eyebrow. 

“Then tell me to move.” He said, the corner of his mouth turning up. Smug bastard. 

“I don’t...” Piers muttered. Jake tilted his head, faking confusion. He pressed forward again, bringing an arm around, resting his hand on the cart behind Piers. Piers lifted a hand as if to stop him, but Jake was smirking again and it made his insides feel like jelly and he’d suddenly forgotten to keep up the act. Fuck it. His hand came to rest on Jake’s chest instead, brushing his fingertips over his collarbone. He felt the leather strap of Jake’s suspenders press into his palm. 

“What was that?” Jake chirped. 

"I don’t want you to.” Piers said through his teeth. He curled his fingers around Jake’s suspender, grabbing a fistful of shirt-

A screech cut through the air. This time they both jumped, Piers releasing his grip on Jake as they stumbled apart. The sound rose and fell, repeating a pattern. A fucking alarm. Piers swung his rifle off his shoulder and rested it in the crook of his elbow. Jake pulled his pistol from the holster at his hip. He clicked the safety off, nudging his chin at the door.

“I’ll cover you.” He whispered. Piers nodded and walked past him to the door, pressing it open with his shoe. The hallway and stairs below were empty, the alarm continuing to blare. They exchanged a glance, and Piers motioned over his shoulder for Jake to follow. 

The source of the disturbance became clear as they rounded a corner and threw open the doors to the lobby. A single zombie, attracted to the bright lights emanating from the building, had managed to break through a section of one of the front windows. However, the opening it had created was small, and it was currently trying to squeeze through, impaling itself on wayward spikes of glass as it did so. The thing whined and reached for them with as they approached slowly, stopping a few feet away from it. It was an old one, all of the skin rotted away from its face in palm-sized patches, black blood pooling over its lips and down its chin. Jake rolled his eyes. 

“These things are too fucking dumb for their own good.” He almost laughed, raising his handgun and pressing the barrel between its eyes. Piers walked over to the rectangular box set into the wall beside the door and started trying to turn the alarm off. After accidentally killing the lights, then blasting the AC, he found the button that stopped the shrill beeping. They were just lucky that they hadn’t drawn any more zombies, noise always seemed to bring them running- 

Oh, shit. 

Piers had just turned around when he realized. Jake cocked the gun, slid his finger over the trigger. Piers called out to him, only managing to get a few steps closer before Jake pulled and the gunshot rang through the air. Piers heard it echo around the nearby buildings, amplified by the tall towers around them. He cursed. 

“The noise, idiot! Are you trying to get us killed?“ Piers hissed, grabbing Jake by the shoulder and yanking him away from the window. Out of the corner of his eye he spied movement, and sure enough a small group of zombies was limping down the street towards them, weaving between abandoned cars. They moved almost hesitantly, their heads swivelling back and forth, as if trying to locate the source of the sound. 

“Oh, shit.“ Jake winced.

“Get back. I’ll cover you.” Piers turned on his heel and wasted no more time sprinting up the stairs to the second floor. He paused on the landing, raising the sight of his rifle to his eye. In the tiny circular hole, Jake set his shoulders and slid a knife from another sheath at his hip. Good idea, the quieter the better. Piers made a face. He still wasn’t used to having anything good to say about Jake. It was disconcerting, to say the least. 

The first zombie reached the glass window, throwing itself against the broken section, where the dead one was skewered on the glass. A crack started to form, then another. Piers winced. Jake ran towards it, stuck his arm into the opening, and buried his knife hilt-deep in its brain. The thing fell still, but the rest of its friends had caught up. One of them reached out an arm, flailing back and forth, having trouble finding Jake in the dark. Jake slashed another one across the throat, ducking a spurt of sludgy blood. The rest of the zombies surged in to close the gap, one of them managing to wrap its bony fingers around Jake’s wrist as he tried to withdraw the blade. Jake swore and yanked his hand back, but the monster dug its nails in and opened its mouth wide, exposing rows of rotted teeth and a bloody stump of a tongue. Piers’ throat was dry and his fingers were trembling as he re-loaded, but he lined up the shot as fast as he could, aiming right for the head. The rifle kicked and tiny hole opened up between its eyes. He grinned. It crumpled backwards, and Jake was finally able to pull back from the window. He was breathing hard, clutching his hand to his chest. There was red blood dripping to the floor between his feet, splattered up his chest to his cheek. Piers felt his stomach drop. 

No. 

He wasted no time bringing the sight to his eye and shooting the remaining zombie down, completely forgetting to give a shit about the noise. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and bolted down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Jake was facing away from him, stumbling backwards with blood dripping onto the floor. The flow seemed to get faster and faster, the white floor tiles dyed red. Piers’ boots squeaked over the tile as he came to a stop, reaching an arm out and managing to catch one of Jake’s suspenders before he hit the ground like a sack of bricks. Piers lowered him to the floor gently, searching frantically for a bite through all the blood. 

“Did it bite you?” His voice was frantic, skipping and breaking. Jake looked up at him, confused.

“Yeah-“ He started to say, brow furrowing. Piers felt like he was going to be sick. Not like this.

“Fuck, no, no-“ Piers pleaded, voice raw, sitting up and glancing around the room for something to stem the flow of blood. Maybe if he gave him the antivirus quickly enough, he might still be able to save him. He couldn’t just die, Piers wasn’t going to lose him to this-

“Piers-“ Jake said, wrapping a hand around his wrist. Piers shook his head. Jake’s eyes were half-shut now, and his breathing was labored. He had to act now. He grabbed Jake by the shoulder and shook. Jake blinked, still confused. He must be in shock, Piers thought frantically. He shook him again. The quiet voice of reason in the back of his mind, behind all the panic, reminded him that shaking someone in this state was probably not a good idea. 

“Jake, don’t go to sleep. I need you to stay awake for me. Where did you put the antidote, we need to-“ Jake reached up with his good hand and pressed it to Piers’ cheek. It gave him pause, just for a moment, as Jake glared up at him. His hand was warm. 

“Piers.” He snapped. Piers stopped still. He felt his shoulder twitch, and before he knew it he’d lifted his own hand and placed it over Jake’s, curling his fingers, holding him tight. Jake breathed out shakily, smiling slightly. His blue eyes shone. 

“I’m immune, remember? Genetic fix-up courtesy of Umbrella?” A moment of silence passed, and then Jake laughed quietly. Piers blinked, felt the panic in his chest subside. 

“Oh.” He breathed, in and out. “...Right.” He could feel heat rise to his face. Jake was absentmindedly brushing the pad of his thumb over Piers’ cheek in circles, and it was... soothing him more than he wanted to admit. Piers bit his tongue as Jake continued to speak. 

“‘M not immune to blood loss, though. Still kinda...” He stopped to cough, and his body shook. “Bleeding out a bit.” 

Piers nodded, looping an arm around Jake and dragging him a few feet to the wall, where he propped him up into a sitting position. He left him there for a moment, running up the stairs and fishing a first-aid kit from his pack where it was neatly stowed under a desk in the office. As he descended again, he kept an eye on the broken window and the corpses strewn among the glass shards. As far as he knew, infected seemed to ignore dead bodies unless they were especially desperate, so moving them wasn’t a priority. Jake tried to smile at Piers when he knelt down beside him, but only managed a strained grimace. Thankfully, the blood had started to clot and Piers could see where it was coming from- a deep gash on the underside of Jake’s wrist where a canine had torn through the skin. The thing was missing most of its other teeth, so while the wound was deep, it could have been worse. With anybody else, they would have to amputate if they had any hope of saving him. But now all Piers had to think about was secondary infection from whatever slew of dangerous bacteria had been in that thing’s mouth. 

He was... worried, he realized. He had all these... concerns, about healing time and how much it was going to hurt Jake to clean the wound and whether it would scar. This was new. Piers bit down on the inside of his cheek, remembering the all-consuming panic that had gripped him when he’d thought Jake was infected. It scared him. Not the emotion itself, that was an unfortunate side effect of the human condition. It was who it was directed at. Jake fucking Muller, of all people. Piers sighed and started by wiping the blood away from the wound with a thin cloth soaked in disinfectant. Jake set his jaw and stared at the cut, saying nothing. Piers sighed and pulled a tube of antimicrobial gel from the kit. Jake blinked at it, still slightly disoriented.

“What’s all this for?” He gestured vaguely with his good hand, tilting his head to squint at the label. 

“Secondary infection. That thing’s mouth has gotta be full of bacteria.” Piers responded automatically, turning his wrist over to apply a little bit of gel where the skin was broken. Jake didn’t respond, just stared him down, as if his question hadn’t been answered. Piers huffed in annoyance and focused on dressing the cut. 

It wasn’t Jake in specific, Piers told himself as he gently wrapped gauze around Jake’s forearm. He just didn’t want to be left alone again. That must be it. He secured the gauze with a bit of tape.

Still, Piers couldn’t shake the fear that congealed into a lump in his stomach whenever he looked at Jake’s blood on his hands, smeared across the floor, spattered on his cheek. Why? Jake still hadn’t spoken, so he lifted another cloth, doused it in more alcohol, and started to wipe the blood off Jake’s cheek. 

He remembered what Sherry had said. 

_He’s carrying extremely precious cargo._

_We can save lives. ___

__Jake was his only hope of getting home, ending this nightmare. If he died... this place would never recover. Piers might not be able to direct people out of the city for much longer. He might die here, far from home, Captain not answering his calls. That was why._ _

__He had to keep Jake alive and unharmed._ _

__Piers laughed softly to himself. _If I’d told that to the man he was a year ago,_ he thought, _He’d think I was putting him on._ He glanced down at the reddened rag in his hands, watching himself gently clean the blood from where it had congealed into blackish stripes on Jake’s palm. Jake simply sat there and let him, all the fight from a few days ago gone. Without realizing, they’d turned down a new path. Piers searched for that trustworthy hate he’d clung to for six months while he was trying to keep Chris from getting himself or someone else killed, and found nothing. He didn’t want to think about what had taken its place. __

______“Okay. I need to get you to bed.” Piers sighed, reaching behind Jake and locking his hands between his shoulderblades. He braced himself against the wall and managed to pull Jake to a standing position. Jake rolled his eyes but leaned on Piers nonetheless when he realized his legs were shaking under his full weight. Piers made a mental note to clean up all the blood later, before somebody slipped or a particularly hungry zombie decided it smelled like dinner. He was distracted from this train of thought when Jake dipped his head down and rested his cheek on his shoulder. Christ, he was tall._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Why don’t you buy me a drink first-“ Jake grinned, and Piers could feel his voice vibrate in his own chest. His whole head felt hot, suddenly._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Shut up. Just be quiet.” Piers gritted his teeth and tugged Jake towards the stairs. He followed without complaint, and thankfully Piers managed to get him upstairs with very little trouble. They did their three-legged stumble down the hall and into the office, where Piers left him leaning against one of the desks. He was already more lucid, glancing around and shaking his head as if to clear it. Piers wondered idly if Wesker hadn’t messed with any other parts of his genetic code. He seemed to bounce back quicker than most._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Just leave your shirt outside the door. I’m gonna disinfect everything so we aren’t walking around smelling like zombie chow.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Good idea,” Jake muttered. “Thanks.” Piers nodded in response and knelt by his bag to stow the first aid kit away. When he looked up again-_ _ _ _ _ _

______Uh._ _ _ _ _ _

______Jake’s shirt was already over his head. He pulled it up past his chin, reaching down to peel it off his arms. Piers didn’t know what he was expecting, just not... that. All those wiry muscles, those broad shoulders, the pattern of pink scars that crawled up his side and disappeared below the elastic of his underwear. He wasn’t going to stare. Just like the locker room, Piers, don’t let anybody know you’re looking. Piers tore his eyes away from Jake’s stupid washboard abs and looked at his face instead. Jake looked back, eyes unreadable as always. Just when Piers thought he had him pinned- Oh, yikes, diverting that train of thought. Piers gave himself a mental shake as Jake sat down on top of his sleeping bag, untying his laces halfway before giving up and yanking the boots the rest of the way off. He balled his shirt up and Piers shoved it into his pack along with his blood-spattered camo net and the ruined cloths from the first aid kit. Jake zipped the sleeping bag around himself, pulling his jacket from the back of a chair and balling it up for a pillow._ _ _ _ _ _

______“‘Kay, I’m gonna pass out.” He yawned, stretching an arm over his head. “How long does it take to get my blood back?” Piers smiled, despite himself. Jake cracked an eye and smiled back._ _ _ _ _ _

______“You need to be more careful. A lot of people are counting on you.” Piers said quietly, gathering his bag and slinging it over his shoulder._ _ _ _ _ _

______“You’re counting... on me?” Jake lifted his head slightly, looking up at him._ _ _ _ _ _

______“‘Course.” Piers said gruffly. He wanted so badly to reach for Jake’s hand, but he stopped himself, digging his nails into his palm instead._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Rest up.” He nodded and turned to leave._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Thanks.” He heard Jake say before the door swung shut._ _ _ _ _ _


	6. jake: i

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is like STUPID long because I couldn't find a good place to break it off. I also struggled with the pacing a bit and my usual beta reader was unavailable so if it sucks i'm really sorry. I might change it a bit later or something? Fic is looking to be around 15-18 chapters according to my outlines so it's my longest one yet... hard to tell if that's good or bad but this ship really needs stuff that's not one shots lol. i love reading comments even if it's just your thoughts/suggestions/theories on the chapter so if you want to leave a comment it'd make my day haha! school is about to start so it might be a while before I manage to update again, sorry. enjoy the nonsense and thanks for sticking with me this far

Jake woke to a motherfucker of a headache.

Water. He needed water.

Without opening his eyes, he swept his hand across the linoleum floor, finding the cloth handle of his bag and yanking it towards him. He rummaged around inside until he found a canteen, still half-full. He chugged the rest and dropped it back into the bag. 

Fuuuuuuuck. 

The headache was still pounding behind his eyes, and he pressed his palms into his eyelids in some attempt to lessen the pressure. No dice. The sun was hot on his face, making his eyelids glow a dull orange. What time was it? Piers usually woke him up earlier than this, like the world’s most annoying alarm clock. He had to assume the man didn’t sleep, because he was always already dressed by the time he shook Jake awake. Not ready to face the sun just yet, Jake probed a little further along the floor with his palm, searching for Piers’ canteen. He’d fill both of them the next time they boiled more water. Piers’ pack was on the floor a little ways away from Jake’s sleeping bag, and he pulled it into his lap, searching for the metal bottle by feel. He pushed aside a first aid kit, binoculars, a few packages of dried nuts, the length of cable, all neatly tied. Something small and square and wrapped in crinkly foil. Jake grinned, tucking the condoms back into their pocket. Piers had gotten all defensive about those, just a few days ago. It had been funny to watch him squirm. Finally, he found smooth metal. Without even stopping to breathe, he drained the canteen and shoved it back into the bag. The pressure in his head had lessened to a dull ache. 

He cursed under his breath and cracked an eye. The sun was bright in his eyes and shining directly through the window, so it was definitely mid-morning. Jake checked his watch. Nine-fifteen. They were late to wake up by two hours. God, he couldn’t wait to give Piers shit about this. Where was the puppy, anyway? 

He found him in another second, across the room. Piers was tucked under one of the desks, curled up in his sleeping bag, dead to the world. Jake sighed, pulled the covers off himself, and crawled over. He put a hand on Piers’ shoulder and shook, but he didn’t respond, just made a little noise and rolled onto his side. Jake wrinkled his nose and tried again, to the same effect. Piers had his cheek pressed to the zipper of the folded jacket he was using as a pillow, and it had left a pinkish mark on his face, bisecting his cheek from his jawline to the corner of his mouth. His eyes were darting back and forth under his eyelids as he slept. It made his eyelashes flutter as his eyes opened slightly, showing a tiny sliver of white. Damn, he was pretty. Jake traced the path of the pink indentation with his fingertip, ending on the edge of his full bottom lip. Too bad he hated Jake’s guts. 

Or... he assumed he did. Everything Piers did was full of mixed signals, and thinking about it too hard just made his headache flare up again. He’d be friendly one moment, and then Jake would say something and Piers would shut down. Jake supposed he hated him back. It was the path of least resistance. Even if it did smart a bit, knowing that Piers still didn’t trust him. It wasn’t like he was desperate to make friends with him, either. This was his olive branch. Proving to himself that everything he touched didn’t have to fall apart. They’d been making some progress, learning to listen to each other. Jake had definitely noticed a change in Piers, he was much less hostile than he’d been in China all those months ago. Then there was last night- Piers had gone into a total panic when Jake got that bite. But why? 

As if remembering it, Jake felt himself glance down at the bandage on his wrist. A round spot of blood the size of a quarter stained the white gauze, but it didn’t hurt anymore. He peeled the tape back and unwound the fabric, looking at the site of the wound. No blood, no scab, just a red mark. He balled the bandage up and pitched it into the garbage can across the room. This wasn’t strange, as he’d long suspected his father hadn’t granted him immunity to the C-Virus and then called it a day and left his genes alone. He had always been able to withstand more damage, and the extra endurance was useful when his job was fighting somebody else’s battles for them. Still useful now, in fact. It almost outweighed the sick feeling he felt, knowing Wesker could’ve hid anything in there. He could be a sleeper agent, for all he knew. And hey, what was so wrong with the home-grown genes his mother had brought to the table? Stupid sanctimonious post-human bastard. 

Beside him, Piers stirred. Jake fixed his eyes on him once more, as if squinting hard enough would help him read Piers’ mind. He wasn’t used to this sort of passive-aggressiveness, people back home tended to speak their minds. Normally he’d just forego tact and demand that Piers tell him exactly what he thought of him, but something told him not to push. If he knew one thing about Piers, it was that he was skittish. Jake decided to wait until Piers made his own mind up. 

Instead, Jake wondered where Sherry was. They’d parted ways in that alley, her pressing that suitcase into his hand and flicking the safety off her pistol. She was alive as of two days ago, that was something. He couldn’t shake the fear that had gripped him when he saw her disappear into the dark of the laneway and turn the corner into nothingness. Things didn’t normally work out in his favor, and in his line of work, goodbye was usually forever. 

Don’t underestimate her, he chastised himself. Sherry can handle it. Even if Jake would prefer to be there, watching her back. 

Jake started to pull his hand back because all this face-touching was beginning to border on creepy, but Piers made a small noise of protest. Jake tilted his head, squinting to see if he was still asleep. His eyes had stopped moving quite so fast behind their lids. Piers lifted his hand from the floor and laced his fingers through Jake’s, bringing their hands to his face and gently rubbing his cheek against Jake’s knuckles. His skin was soft and a little bit warm. Jake laughed quietly. 

“You gotta wake up, puppy. We have places to be, zombies to kill.” Jake shook him again, harder this time. Piers cracked an eye and groaned. 

“Don’t call me that.” He snapped. 

“Call ya what, puppy-“ Jake started, but Piers opened both of his eyes and propped himself up on his elbow to fix Jake with a glare. Jake dropped his hand, pulling Piers’ with it. Piers glanced at their locked fingers for a moment before pulling away and blinking. 

“Why are you...?” He tilted his head in confusion, pushing himself upright. Jake shrugged.

“Dunno, you just grabbed my hand. Figured you knew what you were doing.” He supplied, looking carefully at Piers’ face. Piers was making a funny expression for a second, looking like he was biting the inside of his lip, but then it was gone. Jake was sure he wasn’t imagining it this time. For a moment, he’d looked at Jake in a softer way, those hazel eyes with the long lashes blinking at him. Jake’s chest felt tight. 

“Sorry.” Piers said after a moment. He fixed his eyes on the tile between his feet. 

“‘S fine.” Jake decided not to press it. 

“What time is it?” Piers looked behind himself as he worked a kink out of his shoulder, squinting into the sunlight. 

“Quarter past nine. I just woke up. You look like you need the rest, but I had the sneaking suspicion you’d bitch out on me for ‘wasting valuable hours of sunlight’ or whatever.” Jake waved his hand flippantly. Piers rubbed a hand over his face.

“Do I really look that bad?” He peeked out between his fingers, glancing up at Jake. Between the digits, there were bags under his eyes. Jake nodded.

“Deadest thing I’ve seen this week, zombies included.” He laughed. Piers’ mouth twisted. 

“I’ll be fine, I just need some-“ He reached into his bag and fished out the canteen, closing one eye and peering inside. Empty. He looked accusingly over at Jake. Jake decided it was time to leave. He hopped to his feet, starting to shove the rest of his stuff into his pack. When he was finished, he tucked the bag under a chair and opened the heavy metal door, hanging back on the doorknob for a moment.

“Get dressed. I’ll go boil some more.” He said to Piers, who nodded slowly. 

“You want coffee too?” Jake suggested tentatively, hoping his peace offering might make Piers less pissed. They’d been doing so well the last couple of days. 

“Please.” Piers smiled slightly. Jake nodded and shut the door. As he walked down the hall to the kettle, he pumped his fist in the air. Score. 

—-

Jake opened a cupboard. Then another. He pulled out drawers, peeked into closets, and even stuck his head into the freezer.

“Here’s the haul.” He let a few packages of dried food and a can of soup spill onto the counter. Piers looked up at the noise and folded the map he was looking at into a tiny, neat square. After a moment of looking defeated, he nodded. 

“Pretty dismal, but that’s what we expected.” He lifted a hand and swept the food into his bag. 

“Don’t you still have that space food?” Jake tilted his head, propping his elbows on the counter between them and leaning down so they were at each other’s eye level. Piers nodded in return.

“Uh-huh, it’ll keep us a few more days. After that, though...” Piers sighed. 

“We’ll just have to stretch it a bit. Are we close?” Jake nodded down at the map in Piers’ hand. Piers glanced at the square of paper and blinked, as if he’d forgotten it was there. He unfolded it again, smoothing out the creases. 

“Assuming we clear the gate today and find a place to sleep somewhere nearby...” Piers trailed off, tracing the map with a finger. He was silent, but his lips still moved, shaping words that Jake was unable to decipher. Jake leaned across the counter and rested his chin on his fist, watching Piers trace routes in pencil and then rub them out with the eraser. 

“Hopefully it’ll only take two days. We need to head for higher ground. An office building, maybe.” Piers sighed and started circling a few spots with the pencil.

“Why?” 

“So we can reach the gate guards with a message. I’ll be able to repurpose a satellite dish once we get up there.” Piers snapped the map shut again.

“And if they don’t answer?” Jake asked quietly. Piers looked anxious at the thought. 

“I’ve been trying not to think about that.” Piers sighed.

“A better vantage point might help us find a way around the checkpoint.” Jake supplied, trying to be helpful, but Piers just bit his lip and plucked at a loose thread on the camo net wrapped around his neck. Jake didn’t know what to do, what to say. 

“Yeah, I just... hope it doesn’t come to that.” 

“That’s the problem- It might.” Jake started to speak, but he stopped when he saw the pained look on Piers’ face. 

“Please, Jake.” Piers’ voice was strained, his eyes downcast. He was gripping the folded map in his hand, and as Jake looked closer, he realized it was trembling. 

For once in his life, Jake shut up.

Instead, without really thinking, he reached down and slid his hand over Piers’. His fingers were icy cold. When Jake held them, he stopped shaking. He glanced up and Piers was staring at him like he was trying to bore a hole in his skull. 

“I’m sure they’re fine.” Jake lied. It seemed like the easiest thing to do. Piers didn’t speak for a long moment, just stared. Eventually, he sighed and nodded, the edge of his mouth curving up. 

“All we can do is hope.” Piers said softly, thumb brushing over Jake’s knuckles as he pulled his hand away. Swiftly, he shoved the map into his breast pocket and clicked the ammo cartridge into his rifle. 

“Let’s get going. We’re losing sunlight.” 

Jake nodded.

“Lead the way.” He said, and Piers smiled again. Jake liked it more than he wanted to admit. 

—-

As soon as they crawled back out the window and down to the street, they could see their destination. A tall apartment block, maybe 20, 25 floors. The street in front of the theater was thankfully free of infected, so they went unassailed as they hopped over the bumper-to-bumper automobile graveyard. Piers was his usual self, completely silent. He didn’t say a word as they finished crossing the road, just nodded his head in the direction of the building and forged ahead. Jake followed in a comfortable silence, scanning the roads ahead for any signs of danger. For once, none came. They walked side by side, occasionally stopping to check Piers’ map or to duck under an awning and escape the scorching sun. Forty minutes of weaving through back streets and doubling back to avoid blockades, car crashes, piles of bones, left them hot and tired. This section of the city was eerily silent, no survivors or infected to be seen. The storefronts had long since been raided, the glass windows lying in pieces on the sidewalk. In the distance, a pillar of smoke rose into the sky, like a funeral pyre. Ahead, the tower loomed above them. A few more minutes of silent walking and they stepped into the dark, cool lobby of the apartment complex. 

Piers sighed and took a swig of his canteen. Apparently, he decided that wasn’t enough, because he then cupped his palm and used it to splash water onto his face. Jake watched the water drip down his cheeks and off his nose and lips. Piers opened his eyes, and little drops of water clung to his eyelashes, stuck together with the moisture. He really was cute. With that sharp jaw, soft lips, fluffy hair. Jake had thought so last year, too, but duty had called both of them in different directions. Then, six months later, Jake had been too busy trying to threaten Chris to actually talk to Piers. Except for that time on the lift, but they’d just argued, the way they always seemed to. He regretted the way he’d acted before for a lot of reasons, but at least now he’d been given some chance to change things. Surprisingly, Piers was actually okay. Sort of uppity, hot-headed, maybe, but that was it. It seemed like a lot had changed.

Piers was looking at Jake again, brows pressed together, as if Jake was a puzzle he couldn’t solve. All of a sudden, Jake’s mouth was dry. He looked at the mailboxes in the lobby instead, taking a swig of water. After a moment of silence, Piers tossed his canteen back into his bag and stepped towards the lobby doors. He pulled on the handle tentatively, making the door rattle in its frame. Jake had suspected it wouldn’t be that easy. 

“Let me try.” He spoke up, stepping behind Piers and nudging him aside with a hand at his waist. Piers glanced back at him over his shoulder and nodded slightly, stepping to the right and glaring down the panel set into the wall. While Piers opened it up and started examining the fuses, Jake took a look at the lock. It looked just like any other, but it wouldn’t open unless one of the residents hit the buzzer. Jake missed Edonia. The shitty key locks were always so easy to crack. He reached for the knife at his hip and slid it between the doors. Piers was checking out the intercom set into the wall now, pressing buttons to see if he could guess one of the resident’s buzz codes. Jake pushed the handle of the knife down, hard and fast, until something inside the lock crunched. He yanked the knife out and tried the door. It clicked open. He turned back to Piers, grinning. 

“Got it.” He called. Piers jumped a little in surprise, like a skittish puppy. But he stepped over all the same, squinting at the broken lock.

“Normally with this type of lock there’s an electronic safety, but I think the power’s out.” He said casually. Piers wrinkled his nose.

“I’m not going to ask how you know that.” His voice was defeated. Jake winked in return and opened the door further.

“Good call.” He gestured to the dark hallway behind the door. “You got a flashlight?” He asked, swinging his bag over one shoulder and trying to remember if he’d brought his own. Piers reached up to the little headset by his ear and a bright blue light shone into Jake’s eyes. He put his hand up to block it, wincing.

“Watch where you point that thing.” He snapped. Piers looked sheepish.

“Whoops.” He muttered, brushing past Jake and sweeping the light down the hallway. To their right was a locked office with the blinds shut. The hallway boasted one elevator on the left wall and another door at the end- presumably a stairwell. Even though he knew the power was out, Jake stepped forward and pressed the call button. It clicked, but nothing else happened. No emergency battery, or else it’d already run out. 

“What did you think would happen? Power’s out, dumbass.” Piers said mildly. His tone of voice didn’t match his words. It was light, teasing. Jake rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, dick.” He shot back, having nothing better to say. Great comeback, Jake. Real smooth. Piers was already at the other end of the hallway, and Jake broke into a job to catch up. He stopped by the door, leaning against the frame.

“It’s the stairs, then?” Piers tried the door. It was unlocked. He leaned forward a bit and peered into the dark stairwell, lit by faint red emergency lights at odd intervals. 

“I’ll race you.” Jake nudged Piers with his elbow, half-joking. Piers scoffed.

“God, that is so unprofessional.” He spun towards Jake, stepping right up to him. It hadn’t been entirely serious before, but seeing how offended Piers got, he pushed it further. He wasn’t sure why, he just wanted... something. A reaction, maybe? 

“You afraid you’re gonna lose?” Jake raised his eyebrows. C’mon, puppy, take the bait. Immediately, Piers went red in the face, glaring up at him and crossing his arms. There we go.

“That’s not the issue here! I’m not going to participate in your pissing contest-“ He hissed. Jake laughed back, reaching down and tapping Piers on the nose with his fingertip. He was close enough to see his cheeks blush. Jake sidestepped when Piers swiped at him with his hand and started climbing the stairs, directing his small flashlight at the concrete under his feet. He glanced over his shoulder at Piers’ red face in the doorway and called out,

“See you at the top, loser!” Jake waved behind him. He heard Piers huff in annoyance, but he followed, taking the stairs two at a time.

“No head starts! That’s not fair-“ He yelled from behind Jake, and they both broke into a proper run. The painted numbers on the concrete walls seemed to flash by like stills in a film, and they’d already passed 3, then 4, 5. By floor 5, they were neck and neck.

By the 15th floor, they were starting to get winded, their heavy bags and clunky shoes getting the better of them. Jake was only a few steps behind Piers when he skidded to a stop, nearly losing his balance. Jake reached for him before he fell, pulling him up to his chest to keep him steady. They were breathing hard. He could hear their heartbeats, seeming to echo off the walls. 

“You okay?” Jake reached down and squeezed Piers’ shoulder, an attempt to reassure him. Piers turned his head.

“Look.” He said quietly, nodding at the stairwell ahead of them. In between them and the next floor someone had assembled a makeshift barricade, just nails and scraps of wood. It filled the stairwell almost to the ceiling, wedged to the walls on each side. Jake let his hands fall to his side and Piers pulled back, crouching to examine it. 

“What does that mean? Survivors?” 

“Maybe, maybe not. They could’ve built this any time between the start of the outbreak to today. Plenty of time to die between then and now.”

With the stairwell out of commission, their only option was the door to floor 15. It was a fire door, solid metal, red numbers painted on it in peeling paint. The bottom of the door was scratched up, someone (or something) had tried to claw its way in, leaving deep grooves in the steel. Jake undid the strap at the top of his holster, just in case.

“We need to keep moving.” Piers said quietly, reaching for the door handle and pulling. The hallway beyond was dark, and their flashlights barely shed any light at all. 

“Can’t see fuck-all. Is this thing broken?” Jake knocked the end against the wall in frustration. Suddenly, the beam kicked back to life, glowing brighter. He nodded in satisfaction and turned it to the carpeted floor. However, he only managed one step over the threshold before he had to stagger back, clapping his hand over his nose and mouth. The hallway was thick with flies and the heavy air carried the stench of rot. Bits and pieces of rotted flesh were strewn across the floor, bridging between piles of discarded limbs, torsos, heads, eyes all white and unseeing. He watched Piers’ flashlight pan across the gruesome scene, trying not to gag.

It wasn’t as if he’d never seen a dead body. It was just that these particular corpses had been mouldering in that sealed hallway for days, fermenting in their own guts. 

“Watch your step. Keep an eye on those bodies.” Piers grimaced, stepping over the jumble of rotting limbs. Jake sighed hard and pinched his nose shut as he followed him. Piers turned to his left, trying the first door he found. Locked. The next two were also similarly blocked, one with a deadbolt, the other with a chain. They made their way up and down the hallway like that, occasionally having to kick aside the recently un-undead corpses piled haphazardly in their way. Somebody had been busy. 

The third door from the end opened with a click. Unlocked. Piers waved for Jake to follow and headed inside without so much as a thought. Jake followed reluctantly, wanting to escape the smell. 

The apartment was small, a single bedroom with a tiny balcony. Through the window, Jake saw that pillar of smoke again. It seemed darker. He wondered what was burning so hard for so long- but Piers was speaking, so he tilted his head towards him.

“There really isn’t anything of use in here.” Piers sighed in defeat, circling the table and glaring over at the bookshelf in the corner of the room like it was at fault. 

“Back out into the dead people hallway? Can’t we just wait a minute? ‘Cause I seriously think I might throw-“

“We don’t need to go back out there.” He gestured to the door behind them with his thumb. Jake sighed. 

“I was hoping you’d say that. Fuck that place. What’s the plan, boss?” Jake emphasized that last word, leaning to one side and jostling Piers’ shoulder with his. Piers barely seemed to notice. He was staring intently out the window, and Jake could almost see gears turning in his head. Alright, fine. Ignore me. See if I care. 

“We go out there.” Piers raised his hand and waved it at the balcony railing, the top of it slightly visible through the plate glass windows. 

—-

“This is a stupid fucking idea.” Jake griped as Piers leaned over the balcony railing, glancing left and right. It was only a few feet long and without a roof, so the wind cut straight through them. 

“Not if it works.” Piers muttered.

“If it doesn’t, you fall fifteen floors and break your fucking neck!” Jake could hear his voice rising, but it was like talking to a fucking wall. Piers just stared back at him with that blank expression.

“Don’t get your hopes up, Jake.” He replied flatly. Jake rolled his eyes and reached into Piers’ pack, feeling for the coil of rope. He found it easily. Piers’ organizational system was wonderfully predictable. He let the rope unfurl to the floor, stretching a length between his hands and stepping towards Piers.

“What are you- Hey!” Piers tried to step back, but Jake stuck a hand behind him and looped the cable around his waist, tying it into a sturdy knot. He wrapped the other end around his fist. Piers glared up at him, and he glared back. Before Piers could get in a word edgewise, Jake spoke.

“I’m not going to let you dangle yourself off a balcony without anything to catch you.” He snapped. Piers faltered, settling into a confused expression. Jake soldiered on before he could change his mind. 

“Just... humor me. Please.” He closed the last few feet between them, and Piers did nothing to stop him, just tilted his head and looked back up at him. 

“What do you care?” Piers asked softly. Jake bristled. Was he seriously this stupid? 

“And the award for dumbest question goes to-“ 

“No. I’m serious. What does any of this matter to you? I have a reason to keep you alive- that antivirus we’re making from your blood might be the only thing keeping this city from becoming a graveyard.” Piers stopped to struggle with the knot for a moment, gloved hands barely able to grip. He huffed in frustration. “You confuse me. I can’t make sense of anything you do or why you’re suddenly giving a shit about me. I don’t like it.” He grimaced again, giving up on the knot for the moment. 

“Just because whatever assembly line spat you out taught you to see everything as a fuckin’ cost-benefit analysis doesn’t mean everybody’s like you.” Jake growled back. Piers rolled his eyes. The fuckin’ nerve on this meathead-

“I’m supposed to believe that Jake Muller, full-time murderer for hire, is suddenly being friendly just for the hell of it? Please.”

“What’s the problem with that? Is it because you don’t trust me?”

Piers stopped still. And there was that look again, that one that made Jake feel like he was being dissected. He heard Piers sigh softly under his breath. He reached a hand up and pressed his first two fingers to his temple. 

“I... want to. I just can’t.” He replied finally, voice quiet. Jake wanted to scream. So, what? Piers had spent the last 6 months building Jake up into a monster in that stupid, pretty little head of his and now he was pissed that Jake wasn’t playing the part? Jake grabbed him by the shoulders and (barely) resisted the urge to shake him. Piers tensed but didn’t move away, just stared up at him, eyes catching the fading sunlight, pupils wide and dark. 

“No, I really don’t think you do. You just don’t wanna trust me because it’s easier. You’d rather hate me than know me.” Jake had to struggle to keep his voice down. Piers sighed again, looking pained.

“I’m not saying this right.” He breathed.

“Then what are you saying?” Jake blinked. This was all getting a little complicated for him. But instead of answering, Piers twisted his head to the side and leaned forward, bit by bit, until he was close enough to press his cheek to Jake’s chest. Jake hesitantly released his grip on Piers’ shoulders and reached behind him, lacing his fingers behind his back. His cheek was warm, Jake could feel it through his shirt. 

“I don’t hate you.” Piers’ voice was neutral. His face was neutral. Jake looked into his eyes like they might hold some kind of answer, but they were just eyes and anyway Piers was looking down at his boots. But still, he leaned on Jake, and they stood like that for a moment, half-huddled together, trying not to breathe in sync. 

“I don’t know... If we can be anything else.” Piers said, barely audible. “Anything other than enemies, I mean. I’m not sure we have it in us.”

“I’m not asking you to be my best fucking friend. Just... one step at a time. Let me spot you.” 

Piers nodded. Jake stepped back, holding on tightly to the rope, hand over hand. Piers stepped up to the railing and craned his neck upwards, reaching an arm up to gauge the distance between their balcony and the one above. The railing was composed of solid bars set a few inches apart, enough room to get a foot in the gap. Here came the stupid part. Jake watched nervously as Piers climbed up the railing and put his hands on the balcony above them. He could feel his fingers going numb as he gripped the rope as tightly as he could. Piers waited for a moment until he found purchase on the upper railing, and then he pulled himself upwards. Hand over hand, quickly and surely, until the rope went taut and he was heaving himself over the upper railing. Jake heard his boots hit solid concrete, and he let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. 

“Still kickin’ up here.” Piers called down to him. “Now it’s your turn.” Jake picked up the loose end of the rope and tied it around himself, knotting it tight. He followed Piers’ path, making sure not to look down. He was absolutely sure he didn’t want to know what the ground looked like from up here. It only took him a few seconds to scale the side and pull himself over. They found themselves on someone’s sixteenth-floor balcony, just standing. For a moment, Piers seemed preoccupied, staring out past Jake at the skyline, but he quickly turned away and yanked the balcony door open. 

The inside was dark and quiet. Piers went inside first, clutching his rifle to his chest. The room was small and cramped, and he slid past a table crammed full of papers and letters, piled a few inches high. It appeared somebody had left in a hurry. The fridge hung open, a coat had been pulled from its hook and tossed to the floor. The sound of their boots was softer as they crossed over the carpet, heading for the front door. If it wasn’t for that, Jake wouldn’t have been able to hear-

What was that? 

It sounded like a floorboard creaking, a quiet noise from down the hallway, further into the apartment. Jake reached out without thinking, grabbing Piers by the shoulder and pulling him backwards. They stumbled against the table, the legs scraping against the tile. 

“What the Hell, Jake-“ Piers turned on his heel, but before he could say anything more, the noise came again. A creak in the floorboards, then something heavy slammed itself against a wall. Piers spun towards the sound, lifting his rifle to his eye. At the end of the hallway, the door strained on its hinges as something slammed itself against it, harder this time. Piers cursed under his breath.

“No way we can fight it in here. No room. Out into the hall on my count.” He checked the ammo on his gun, the neat row of bullets in the cartridge catching the light from the window. 

“One.” He started. 

“Who died and put you in charge?” Jake snapped. Piers didn’t respond, just rolled his eyes and nodded towards the door.

“Two.” 

“Fine.”

“Three.” Piers whispered finally, and Jake walked as quickly as he could to the doorway, swinging it open and checking the hallway. Empty and corpse-free, thank god. The door to the stairwell was slightly ajar, and he could see the red glow of the emergency lights spilling out from the crack. He glanced back over his shoulder, seeing Piers at his back. Good. They made it halfway down the hallway before they heard the telltale sound of wood splintering. Something crashed to the floor, breathing hard and heavy. The door was only a few feet away, but they had to move fast. Piers reached it first, slamming it open and skidding to a stop on the landing, a few feet up from the barricade. Finally convinced that Piers was safe, Jake turned to face the heavy footsteps he heard coming up from behind them. 

The thing was huge. It was hard to tell if this zombie had something different about it or if it’d just been made out of a brick shithouse of a man. It was a few inches taller than Jake’s six foot two, broad in the chest, and looking really, really pissed. Without hesitation, Jake whipped the pistol out of his belt and put a bullet in its foot, hoping to slow it down. No such luck. The thing just roared louder and closed the last few feet in a matter of seconds. Behind him, he heard Piers take a few steps back. Jake gritted his teeth and emptied his clip in a neat line upwards, from its sternum to its face. It barely slowed down this time, clawing at its chest, smearing its black blood on its hands. 

Behind him, Piers wrapped a hand around the handle of his pack and pulled him away. He leaned back and kicked the door shut, hoping to buy them some time. It slammed hard, kicking up a stiff breeze. Behind the thick metal, Jake could hear a muffled roar. 

“Let’s go. Now.” Piers barked, releasing his grip on Jake and running at the stairway full-tilt. The numbers flew past, bypassing floor 16, then 17, 20, 22, until-

Far below them, the door to floor 15 screeched on its hinges as it was thrown against the cement wall with an earsplitting crack. Piers’ eyes went round. They stood in silence for a moment, listening intently. Far below, wood shattered. The growling sounds from the zombie faded as it tore through the barricade and stomped down the stairs. Jake nodded to Piers and they climbed the last flight of stairs. At the very top, a door with a small window was fixed in the wall.

“Let’s just hope that thing fucks off.” Jake muttered, reaching for the door handle. 

“Not likely.” Piers laughed bitterly. Jake laughed too, pulling the door open and squinting against the bright sunlight. 

Finally- the roof. Jake breathed in deep when he opened the door, feeling a cool breeze in his hair. They were high above everything, staring at the skyline of the city. To the north, Jake could almost see the quarantine gate. He stepped forward, feet crunching on the gravel. There was the gate and the guardhouse, the movie theater, and somewhere to the west, their destination. Piers hovered close to his side, lifting his rifle to his eye to peer through the magnified scope. Apparently, he didn’t like what he found. He shook his head, tossing the gun back over his shoulder and letting his hands fall to his sides. The back of his hand brushed over Jake’s, just for a moment, before Piers remembered himself and pulled back. They stepped over to the edge of the building. The sun was at their backs, glowing with heat. Jake sighed and scanned the horizon, hand shielding his eyes. Maybe a few degrees to the right was that pillar of smoke, thinner now but still just as dark. Piers was staring it down too, brow furrowed. 

“What’s happening over there?”

“I... have no idea.”

“And our friends at the guardhouse?”

“Let’s see.” As if he’d forgotten, Piers glanced over his shoulder at his pack, where the broadcasting equipment was held. He pulled it out and extended the antenna, placing it on the roof in front of the cluster of satellite dishes. He pulled a connector cord from his bag and spent a few seconds inserting it into a port on the underside of the satellite. Together, they kneeled next to the communicator, Piers staring intently at the green display. He turned a few knobs and fiddled with a few buttons, as static began to fizz quietly on the line. He turned it until the frequencies lined up and the static faded to a buzz. He had the strangest little expression on his face, chewing on his lip, head tilted, eyes fixed on the green numbers on the display. Eventually, he glanced up at Jake, meeting his eye and grinning. He looked different like this, wind ruffling his hair, sunlight catching his cheek and making his eyes light up green. He almost glowed. Jake couldn’t really help smiling back. 

“I got it.” 

“Operator 323 to Central Quarantine Gate. Come in, Central Gate.” He spoke evenly, clearly. When he was talking on the radio, Jake had noticed that he sounded different. More proper. 

“Central Quarantine Gate, I am requesting immediate assistance. We have very precious cargo to deliver.” He hit the button again.

Reluctantly, Jake left him to it and lifted the binoculars to his eyes, cranking the magnification until he could see the shape of the guardhouse clearly. The first thing he saw was red. On the wall facing him, a large bloodstain was splattered. Below it, as Jake turned the binoculars down, was a corpse, all shredded to pieces. Its flesh was mangled, its limbs forced into unnatural positions. The trail of blood below it continued along the sidewalk to the door of the guardhouse. The windows were shattered, and debris was strewn over the steps to the door and the ground in front of the building. He lowered the binoculars. A few feet away, Piers was still talking to the communicator, clicking a button and repeating his message. He was moving faster now, more frantic. His fingers were shaking when he hit the button and spoke clearly, for the fourth or fifth time.

“323 to Central Quarantine Gate. Please respond, Central Quarantine Gate.” His voice had a hysterical edge to it. Jake felt his stomach drop. Piers wasn’t going to like this at all, but he spoke anyway.

“Piers, you’re going to want to see this.” He stepped over to him and knelt next to the transmitter, holding out the binoculars. Piers took them gingerly, looking up at Jake in confusion. 

“What?” He asked. Jake shook his head. 

“It’s easier if you see for yourself.” He pointed over his shoulder at the silhouette of the guardhouse. Piers raised the binoculars to his eyes slowly.

“Oh.” He said after a moment. Just that. Piers held the binoculars out to Jake and he took them back, looping the strap around his neck. Piers stood, turning his back on the guardhouse and stepping away from the edge. He froze in the middle of the rooftop, saying nothing. 

“There’s nothing you could have done.” Jake supplied, as if that would make it any easier. 

“It’s too much death.” Piers’ voice was raw. Jake left his things by the edge of the rooftop and joined him in the centre. Piers was staring intently at the ground. What the fuck was he supposed to say? He’d buried all this shit years ago. 

“Death is our line of work.” He choked out finally, crossing his arms. Piers finally looked up, glaring at him all annoyed. No winning, huh?

“I know that.” Piers said bluntly. 

Then what’s the point in getting worked up over it?” Jake shrugged. Piers looked at him, analytical, like he didn’t buy that. Maybe Jake didn’t either, but it wasn’t like this job had insurance for therapy. He just had to suck it up and move on.

“Don’t you ever have feelings, Jake?”

“Sure, but feelings don’t put food on the table.” 

“I wish I could be so flippant about it. I...” Piers paused, screwing his eyes shut. “I’ve been doing this for six years, and I still can’t get used to it.” He looked desperate like this, all falling apart. Jake didn’t like it at all. Piers had always seemed so... untouchable. Like he’d always been this way. 

“Maybe that’s a good thing. Someone here’s gotta have a moral compass.” Jake shrugged again. Piers looked over sharply. For a moment, they were quiet. 

“You’re just trying to make me feel better, aren’t you?” Piers said. Jake laughed. Too perceptive for his own good, but that was nothing new.

“Kinda.“ Jake replied, paused for a moment as Piers stared him down. He raised his eyebrows. “... Is it working?”

“Kinda.” Piers’ voice was steady, but Jake caught him smiling slightly. They stood there together for another quiet moment, just them and the breeze and the sun and the silent city. Far below, a bonfire burned, spitting ash and black smoke into the air. Jake looked at it blankly, tracing the route of the smoke as it curled into the sky and dissipated. He followed it around the rooftops, between the buildings, down to the ground, where he caught a glimpse of movement. Huh?

He lifted the binoculars to his eyes and trained them towards the ground. Far below them, two women tossed bundles of sticks onto the flame, feeding the fire. Survivors, then. Did they know that the rescue helicopters didn’t come anymore?

One of them stopped to rest for a moment, turning away from the heat of the bonfire to wipe her forehead with the back of her hand. Jake’s fingers tensed, and he nearly dropped the binoculars. No fucking way.

There she was, alive and kicking.

Sherry turned to the woman next to her, lips forming words that Jake couldn’t make out. The other woman turned back towards Sherry, and he caught a glimpse of her face, framed by shoulder-length brown hair. One of Leon’s friends from China. Helen? No, not right. Helena? He felt something swell in his chest, and he grinned. It didn’t matter who she was or what they were saying. Sherry was alive. 

“It’s her.” He laughed. Piers looked up from packing up the transmitter, quirking a brow. 

“Who?” He said dryly. 

“Sherry. Who else?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when i finish this one i'm considering writing a sister fic chronicling sherry and helena's side of the story! it's honestly about time because i've literally shipped them for like 3 years and i think their dynamic could be really good but haven't written anything which is a CRIME.


	7. jake: ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok here it is!!!!! i know not much happens but it got away from me and before i knew it i was looking at a huge word count lol.... This chapter also introduces Sherry and Helena into their little group. I’ve made up my mind & I’m definitely writing a sister fic with them- although the tone will likely be different. I also have something else in the works but it’s looking more and more like I may not publish it.... Sorry. Next update in October probably!

Jake nearly ran back to Piers, dropping to a knee on the gravel and reaching for the communicator. Piers must have realized his intention because he met him halfway, opening the short-range channel and handing him the headset. Jake slid it over his ears and stared down at the black box- so many fucking dials. He ran his finger over the row of red buttons, grimacing. Beside him, Piers leaned in and hit one of the ones in the middle- SCAN. The line fizzed, first loudly, and then slowly quieter. He nodded at Piers, who looked smug. Jerk. 

The line stopped crackling, and a voice came in clear- or, as clear as possible. Sherry was only equipped with a short-range radio. But there she was, voice ringing over the line. Jake felt himself relax. She was okay. She was really okay. 

“This is Field Officer Birkin. State your business.” Sherry said, doing her best to sound stern. Jake knew exactly which facial expression would accompany that voice, how she would set her jaw and press her eyebrows together. She was too cute to be scary, unlike Piers, who somehow managed both. 

“Guess who.” Jake grinned. On the other end, he heard Sherry gasp.

“Jake?!” 

Quietly, from a little further away, Jake heard another voice, low and slightly confused.

“Jake? Like, Muller?” That distaste would be Helena. 

“Oh my gosh, you’re safe! You had me worried for a second. Those zombies-“ There was relief in her voice. It made Jake happy. He was grinning, ear to ear like a kid. Sherry was the best thing to happen to him for a long time. Normally, he wouldn’t have let anybody see this- it might ruin his reputation. Couldn’t have anybody knowing you cared about someone, even a friend- that never went well for them. But it was just Piers, and Jake knew he wasn’t going to tell. He looked back up for a moment and saw Piers was smiling too.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” He said to Sherry. Piers rolled his eyes. The look from before was gone, replaced with something more predictable. 

“Still. I assume you’re keeping that antivirus safe for me?”

“Always. I also ran into-“ Jake paused for a second. How should he put it? Colleague? Too stuffy, although he was sure that was what Piers would prefer. Piers liked to keep his distance. “A friend.” It felt strange to say that, and it made Piers look over at him sharply. He met his eye and smiled slightly. Piers just looked confused. 

“Ah- Private Nivans got my message, then? Great. We’re trying to find a way through the Central Quarantine gate, any ideas?”

“We checked it out- compromised. The only way through is to clean it out.”

“Really—“ Sherry stopped. Quietly, Jake heard Helena speaking, but he couldn’t make out the words. 

“This really puts a wrench in our plans- and yours, too, I assume. Can you meet us over there?” She sounded harried now, and under her voice was the sound of things being hastily packed away. Helena muttered something. Jake felt a twinge of annoyance. What, she didn’t trust him to hear? Christ, he couldn’t catch a break. Piers had finally stopped being an asshole, after the better part of 3 days. He didn’t want to have to start over with Sherry’s government leech. 

“Sure thing, Supergirl.” He replied. No need to bring Helena up, he’d have to deal with it soon enough anyway. If she was gonna start shit, Jake was ready. 

“Thanks, Jake. I’ll see you soon.” Sherry said softly, signing off with a click, leaving static on the line. Jake pulled the headset from his head. 

“No change in plans. We’ll meet up with Sherry and Helena at the Central Quarantine Gate.” Piers nodded in response, already packing away the transmitter. Jake stowed the binoculars in his pack and took one last glance at the ground- Helena and Sherry had already gone, but the fire still burned. 

—- 

The air inside the stairwell was cool and the red lights were a welcome reprieve from the bright sun. As the door swung shut behind them, Jake and Piers held still, listening for sounds of movement from below. The thing from before wasn’t stomping around anywhere nearby. Small miracles and all that. 

Together, they descended the stairs, stopping only to pull the shreds of the barricade apart from the other side. It was easier going down than up, so they made better time, and soon they were on the final half-flight to the ground floor. As they neared the lobby, Piers stopped still. Jake nearly ran into his back, bumping up against him. 

“What’d you just stop for-“ Jake started to gripe, stepping around him. Piers tilted his head and looked over at the door, concentrating hard on something. 

“Shh.” He said, holding a finger up to his lips. Jake shut up, but he wasn’t happy about it. With the sound of their voices and footsteps no longer echoing through the stairwell, Jake could hear something else. Glass shattering. Tile breaking. Metal crunching. Jake winced. 

“Looks like our friend is here.” Piers whispered, slinging his rifle over his shoulder to pull the safety. Jake almost groaned. 

“We’re going to need some serious firepower for this one. You got any bigger caliber bullets?” Together, they tiptoed back through the hall with the still-dead elevators and the deserted office.

“I’ve got plastic tips.”

Jake nearly laughed. Overkill, much? 

“Those’ll do.” Jake wrapped his hands around the grip of his pistol. They needed to move, and fast. Any second now that thing was gonna get bored of trashing the lobby and try to head back upstairs. They needed to keep it as far away from close combat as the space allowed. He was not risking a bite from that thing- he had a feeling it wouldn’t end well, immunity or no. 

“I’m going to get its attention, lure it as far away from you as possible. Then you unload. I doubt this thing’ll go down without a fight, but we’ll have to move fast. We can’t be here when the noise brings reinforcements.” Jake whispered, all the while filling his magazine with bullets. Piers watched him silently and intently, nodding along. When Jake finished speaking, he met his eye and whispered,

“Got it. Be careful out there.” 

“You know me. Careful’s my middle name.” Jake winked. He liked the way it made Piers look. He went from broody to embarassed, huffing quietly and looking away. But he still readied his rifle on his shoulder and planted his feet on the floor, eyes trained on the door to the lobby. Jake closed the last few steps towards it, cracking it open.

Beyond, the zombie was moving in circles, as if confused. It seemed to be lacking direction. Jake stepped all the way into the room, cupped his hand around his mouth and called out,

“Hey! Rot-for-Brains!” The sound reverberated off the stone tiles and hard walls. As he’d hoped, the zombie turned towards him on an unsteady swivel. It fixed its pale eyes on him and growled, low and long. Satisfied that he’d caught its attention, Jake took off, sprinting across the lobby all the way to the other side. He reached the front door and skidded to a stop, using the remainder of his momentum to turn himself back around to face the monster—

Which was currently bearing down on him faster than he’d expected. 

“Take your time, it’s not like Hulk over here is trying to eat me or nothin’!” He called to Piers, who he could see in the doorway all the way at the back, rifle raised to his eye. Instead of answering, Piers squeezed the trigger, and the zombie’s body jolted, black blood splattering out of the back of its leg. If that shot was supposed to slow it down, it hadn’t worked. Jake ducked out of the way and rolled sideways as it charged at him, swiping one of its massive hands in his direction. Luckily, however, it was too angry to notice the bullet in its calf, or perhaps too stupid to pinpoint the source. It stayed focused on Jake, who shot off another two shells into its chest. From behind them, Piers loaded another bullet, this time hitting it in the shoulder. The thing barely noticed the shot, just growled and brought its fist down on the floor, narrowly missing Jake. Piers got off another shot, into the same shoulder, and this time it must’ve hit something vital. The zombie howled and clawed at its shoulder, looking back and turning in funny little half-circles, trying to see the wound. Jake had to choke back a laugh. Dumb bastard. In its shocked stumble, it’d started to drift nearer to Jake than he liked, its heavy hands swinging dangerously close to his chest. Jake waited for Piers to take another shot, and when he heard it connect, he ducked. It was simple enough to run under its arm and sprint to the other side of the room. He’d almost reached the far wall when-

Oh, fuck.

The zombie’s nails dug into his shoulder, wrenching him backwards. Fucker was faster than he’d thought. In the shock, his hand flew open, and his pistol clattered to the floor, sliding a few feet across the tile. The thing wrapped two of its hands around his ribcage and lifted him up like he weighed nothing. Jake struggled to breathe under the sudden heavy compression, darts of pain shooting through him as his ribs threatened to snap. Desperately, he balled his hand into a fist and brought it down hard on the thing’s skull. It barely seemed fazed. Jake didn’t stop, one hand scrabbling at its fat fingers, trying to pull them back, the other whaling on the top of its head. He could feel just the tiniest jolt of pain along his side. Not now... something had to give-

The monster reared back, and a bullet originally intended for its skull tore through the flesh of its neck and embedded itself in its windpipe. Jake got a spray of black blood across his abdomen, and was promptly thrown back to the ground as the monster howled and clutched its neck. Jake executed a neat shoulder roll back to where he’d seen his gun fall, but he stopped still when he heard Piers fire again, the noise bouncing off the walls and threatening to give him a headache. The bullet shot right through its ear, embedding itself in its brain. Just like that, the zombie crumpled, hitting the ground so hard it shook. It lay still, finally dead. Or re-dead? Jake felt a little robbed, he’d done that cool roll and everything-

Phew, his chest hurt, a tiny needle of pain forming along his... fifth? Fourth rib? He’d never been a man for biology or first aid. Piers, however, seemed just the type. Jake managed to stand, re-holstering his gun. Piers jogged over, stepping quickly and precisely over the zombie’s huge fallen limbs. 

“Did it hurt you?” Piers asked, trying to contain the tremor in his voice with a quiet cough. Jake still recognized it, though. He wasn’t really sure what to make of it. Piers lifted his hands, gently placing one on each side of Jake’s ribs. He ran his fingers up Jake’s side, feeling until he found the small throb of pain over the fourth rib- or was it sixth? Jake hissed, feeling his chest burn. 

“I think it might be bruised. You need ice on this-“

“If it’s not a break I’ll bounce back quick. It’s really only the bones part— ow— that’s the problem.” Jake winced as Piers prodded at the tender spot again. Piers bit his lip.

“Sorry. Are you sure you don’t want-“

“We both know that we can’t waste any more time here. I’ll be fine.” Jake said evenly. Piers didn’t look convinced, and he didnt step back either, hands idly resting against Jake’s chest. Those times in the projection room and the office, Piers’d pulled away pretty much immediately. But now he was looking at him through his eyelashes, leaning in until their shoulders were touching, that sweet look on his face-

Really? Right now, when they had to move before anything came to investigate the racket they just made? Jake gritted his teeth. He reached down and pressed his hand to Piers’ cheek. Piers stopped still.

“Whatever kinda... moment we’re having here-” Jake shrugged. “It’s great and all, but we really have to move. Now.” 

“Dunno what you’re talking about, moment.” Piers rolled his eyes and stepped back, dropping his hands. Jake regretted saying anything. But there would always be time later to get back to... that. Whatever the hell it was that made Piers look at Jake like he’d forgotten to hate him.

“Don’t give me that. What, the goo-goo eyes were just for-“ Jake stopped, shook his head. “Nope. Not doing this.” 

“Let’s go, then.” Piers replied, already turning around and making for the door.

—-

They spotted Sherry as soon as they rounded the corner. She and Helena were easy to spot, peering through the fence of the guardhouse. Sherry looked up when she heard them approach, and her face lit up when she recognized Jake. She turned quickly on her heel and bolted towards him. 

“Jake, oh-“ She called. Jake grinned. 

“Aww, did ya miss me?” He yelled in return, opening his arms for a hug.

“‘Course I missed you, dummy!” Sherry laughed. He remembered the bruised ribs just a second before she crashed into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Pain shot through his side, and he groaned. “Fuck, fuck- watch the ribs-” He wheezed, setting her down as gently as he could. Sherry’s eyes went wide.

“Sorry, sorry-“ She patted him gently on the shoulder, tilting her head slightly and beaming up at him. She looked good, unharmed, her big blue eyes crinkling at the corners when she smiled. Jake felt at home when he saw her. Impulsively, he reached up and brushed her fluffy blond hair away from her forehead. Underneath, there was a tiny cut. He bit his tongue and did his best not to fret. Sherry could take care of herself. 

“Helena. Good to see you’re well.” Piers called from behind him, and Helena left her post and walked up to them. Jake finally took a look at her. Of course he’d seen her in China, but everything was so confusing and hectic that he hadn’t gotten a good look. She was all angular and alert, holding herself upright, like a tightly wound piece of machinery. Her hair was dark and sleek, framing her bold brows and sharp eyes. She was dressed simply- a black t-shirt and leather jacket over jeans. On her feet were dark, heavy boots. She was sort of hot in a scary way, but Jake had a strong feeling she didn’t swing in his direction. 

“You too, Piers. Leon said to send his regards.” She said, nodding in return.

“If we all make it out in one piece, I’ll be sure to thank him personally.” Piers chuckled. There they went, trying to pioneer the award for most stuffy conversation. Jake tuned it out, because Sherry was speaking. 

“So what do we know?” She chirped, casting a look around the odd little circle they found themselves in. Piers piped up first.

“Multiple casualties. Maybe dead, maybe un-dead. Hard to tell. We need to get to the control panel inside the base and open that gate.” He gestured behind them, to the top of the barbed wire fence they could see winding around the back of the guardhouse. 

“We have to be careful. If you think the Southern half was bad, I hear the North is overrun. That quarantine gate might be the only thing keeping them out.” Helena said softly, looking around like she was afraid they’d be overheard. 

“Of course. We’re going in quick, minimal noise, to avoid drawing any attention to the gate. There was a crew of 6 guards stationed there, but we have to anticipate that whatever caused the breach might still be there as well.” Piers crossed his arms and looked back up at Jake, looking to him for... what? Backup? It was... strange. Ever since the balcony, Piers had treated them like a team. It was a little gesture, but Jake was sure. This was Piers’ olive branch. He nodded. 

“It might be easier to cover more ground if we split up. Helena, I’m trusting you to watch her back.” Jake turned his gaze on Helena now, who returned it coldly.

“Fine. After, though- we’re not headed to the lab right away. Quick detour.” She glanced over at Sherry, who nodded back to Jake. What? What the Hell was this? He wasn’t just going to leave her-

“We’ll come with you.” Jake blurted out. Next to him, Piers blinked. Helena glared. Sherry gently put a hand on her shoulder, pulling her back. 

“It’s more important that you and the sample are safe. Me and Helena can handle it.” She looked back up into Jake’s eyes. He trusted her, he did-

“But-“ 

“Don’t make me pull rank, Jake. You know how much I hate doing it.” Sherry said firmly, pulling that little face of hers, setting her jaw and gathering her brows together. Jake sighed. 

“Be careful.” He reached for her free hand, taking it in his own.

“Of course.” Sherry said simply. Jake turned back to Helena. 

“Keep her safe, got it? Or you’ll have to deal with me.” He said bluntly, letting Sherry’s hand drop. Helena quirked a brow and lifted her hands, as if in defense. Sherry looked nervously from her to Jake, but Helena didn’t seem to notice. 

“Calm down, big guy. She’ll be fine. Scout’s honor.” Helena chuckled, lowering her hands and drawing the collar of her jacket to the side. One gun was holstered to each side of her chest. Jake’s worry evaporated. Sherry was going to be in good hands. 

“We gotta get moving.” Piers piped up. 

—-

On the third try, the gate lock snapped open, falling to the ground in pieces. Helena’s boot connected with the ground, producing a loud thud. She looked pleased with herself, kicking the lock aside and pulling the door open. Beyond the gate was a small concrete parking lot, two empty trucks parked crookedly by the entrance to the guardhouse. Jake glanced around nervously, but it seemed the lot was truly empty. The guardhouse was a squat building, two floors high. At the top, a hasty lookout had been constructed, slapped together from plywood and flying a tattered American flag. Jake lead the group into the building, slowly pushing the side door open. It wasn’t even locked, and the inside was quiet. Immediately to the right of the door was a set of cement stairs, and directly ahead was a long, dark hallway. He nodded to Piers.

“Let’s split up. Team Muller takes floor 2, Team Birkin gets the ground floor.” Jake spoke in a whisper, trying to be as quiet as possible. The hallway seemed empty, but who knew what could be lurking behind those doors. Beside him, Piers bristled.

“Why’re we taking your name?” He whispered sharply. Jake shrugged.

“‘Cos our names sound stupid when you stick ‘em together.” He shot back. Piers bit his lip, thinking on it for a moment. 

“Mull-ivans?” He muttered, pulling a face. Behind him, Sherry covered her mouth with her hand, trying very hard not to laugh. Helena seemed amused too, although Jake couldn’t understand why. 

“See?” He turned back to Piers. 

“Whatever. On behalf of Team Nivans, I say we make this fast. Good luck, guys. Radio if you find anything.” Piers stated bluntly, getting a nod from Helena. Team Nivans, huh- Jake didn’t hate the sound of that, though he’d rather die than admit it. Piers turned and started climbing the stairs, leaving Jake at the bottom. He scrambled to catch up, shooting one last look at Sherry as she and Helena moved further down the hallway.

Piers was standing at the top of the stairs by the time he reached the landing, back to him. To his right, a ladder had been propped under an open hatch. Jake leaned to one side, peering up into the lookout. It was empty. To their left was a hallway not dissimilar to the one downstairs- long and poorly lit. Piers turned his flashlight on, sending a blue beam of light down the corridor. He turned for a moment, glancing behind him as if making sure Jake was there. Jake shot him a thumbs-up. Piers chuckled quietly, smiling back at him. 

It really embarassed him, how much he liked that look. In theory, his taste in men (and women, for that matter) leaned less towards the straight-laced types, but here they were. Piers’ smile was shy, like he wasn’t used to it, and it made Jake’s heart knock a few times against his ribcage. Quiet down, he thought, but it carried on regardless. 

Piers turned back around, waving over his shoulder, the signal for Jake to follow. He almost said something indignant, but this wasn’t the time for a power struggle, so instead he fell in line behind Piers. He didn’t love to follow, but he did like the view. He respected the judgement call of whoever decided to make the BSAA official uniform feature The Tightest Pants Possible. 

A few seconds later, Piers paused to check the first door. Jammed. He rattled it quietly in its frame and cursed under his breath. Then he glanced back at Jake, following his gaze down-

“Are you...?” He whispered, looking confused. Jake snapped his eyes to his face.

“Am I what?” He tried his best to look innocent, tilting his head and smiling. Piers narrowed his eyes. 

“Never mind...” He shook his head, turning back around and continuing down the hall. 

The next door was locked, and the next. They zigzagged back and forth across the hall, but the only open door they found was at the end. Up until then, the second floor had been completely silent. No news coming from their friends on the ground floor, either. Nevertheless, Piers made sure to stay as quiet as possible, inching the door open gently. 

There was the office, a desk strewn with papers, piled over and between monitors displaying a live feed from the cameras around the base. Jake wondered idly where they were getting the power for this- and the electrified fence. Solar panels, maybe? 

Piers stepped up to the desk, brushing a couple technical manuals and a thick stack of printouts aside. They slid to the floor with a soft hiss. Beneath was a switchboard, a few plugs connected, a few lying tangled in the mess. Piers brushed the dust and detritus away, frowning. In the corner of the panel, a red label read “Gate Control.” It had a piece of electrical tape over it- taped into the ‘off’ position. 

“This is awful protocol. No way government soldiers left the place like this.” Piers sounded almost... offended? Jake chuckled.

“Maybe they’ve been dead longer than we thought.” He guessed, wiggling a computer mouse and watching the corresponding monitor light up. Four live feeds were displayed, all quiet and still. 

“Still, somebody’d have to be using this place for a while to get it like this. Can you radio Sherry? Tell her we found the gate control and to stay on her guard.” Piers began to fiddle with the switchboard, pressing buttons in quick succession. Whatever he’d done made a succession of lights blink on. Jake left him to it, reaching for the walkie at his waist and clicking it on. 

“Birkin, come in.” Jake said into the steady stream of static. 

“Harper here. Sherry’s busy with the computer terminal in the office. She’s already found some logs.” Helena’s voice answered, level and calm.

“We found the gate control, but it looks like somebody’s been camping out here. Have you seen anything weird?” Jake watched as Piers turned on the final monitors, looking intently at the security feed. In another window, he was rewinding the footage, camera by camera, hoping to catch something. 

“We know there’s supposed to be a team of guards stationed here, but I haven’t seen hide or hair of anybody. No bodies, just a bit of blood.” Helena sounded perplexed, sighing quietly down the line. 

“We’ll get the gate open and meet you downstairs. Tell Sherry to download whatever she can.” Jake sighed too. Something didn’t smell right about this- it was possible the bodies had gotten up and walked away, but zombies didn’t really have much of a range. Or any gate-opening capabilities, for that matter. This reeked of human intervention. But who would move the corpses? 

“Roger that.” Helena chirped, turning the channel off with a click. Jake turned the volume down and clipped it back to his belt. Quietly, the static still on the line rose and fell. 

“Jake, c’mere a sec.” Piers called, beckoning him with a hand and a concerned expression. Jake walked up to the desk.

“Did you wanna finish what we started earlier?” He teased. Piers blinked.

“What? No-“ He paused, tilted his head, considered. “Well, yeah, but look at the security feed first.” He leaned down, entered a command into the computer, and a camera feed popped up. A group of people in black was moving at a swift clip across the parking lot. 

“Sherry-“ Jake sprung away from the monitor, pulling his pistol from his belt and preparing to bolt through the hallway and down the stairs. Behind him, he heard Piers pull the safety on his rifle, and he did the same. One after the other, synchronous. Jake took a deep breath. Now or never. 

At his waist, the radio crackled. Somebody was holding down the button, although all he could hear was voices between spots of static. Helena must be trying to tell him something-

“Drop your weapons.” The radio returned to focus, picking up the man’s voice perfectly. He spoke cheerfully, like he was reading the weather. 

Worst of all, Jake knew exactly who that voice belonged to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I saw a couple people mention “chekhov’s condoms” and i straight up thought it was an RE reference i was forgetting so i didn’t say anything bc i didn’t wanna look like a dumbass but I finally looked it up on tvtropes! You guys really can just ask me if they’re gonna fuck. Don’t hide behind cute literary references LOL


	8. jake: iii

It’d been a few months since Jake’s tenth birthday. There was no fanfare, no friends to invite. He didn’t really like any of the other children crammed into the tiny schoolhouse. But his mother made him a small cake and sang to him in her high, sweet voice. She held his hand in hers across the table with the broken leg. So it was okay. It was all he needed. 

He slung his bookbag over his shoulder and bolted down the stairs, listening to the chorus of creaks like gunshots that sounded after each step. His mother was at the bottom of the stairs, smiling weakly as he skidded across the carpet. She balanced the washtub full of dirty sheets on her hip, tilting her head to appraise him. He ran his hands over his little uniform self-consciously, tucking the corner of his shirt back in.

“Fix your collar, darling.” She said softly, then leaned down and combed her hand over his hair until it wasn’t falling in front of his eyes. He smiled up at her, pulling the edge of his collar to keep it even. She nodded approvingly.

“Make sure you eat something before school.” She called over her shoulder as he ducked under her arm and headed for the back door. The little window was dark, the rain outside blocking everything out. He grabbed an umbrella from the stand under the counter, and reached up to open the door. From the front of the house, he heard a knock on the door. He stopped with his hand on the knob. Two quick raps in succession, then silence. He turned halfway, watching his mother set down the washing and unlock it, quickly, hands shaking. He wasn’t sure why she seemed so nervous, but she seemed near about ready to come to pieces right there in front of him, and all he could do was watch as she pulled the door open and greeted the people behind it. His legs felt stiff, rooted to the splintering floorboards. 

Two men, tall and fair, were standing under their stoop, jackets wet with the torrential rainstorm that was currently threatening to turn the tiny house into matchsticks. The taller of the two was wearing dark, heavy sunglasses, completely covering his eyes. His hair was slicked tight to his skull with grease, and it gave Jake the impression of something alien, strange. His lips were thin and bloodless, pressed into a hard line. Drops of water rolled down his brow, dripped off the tip of his nose. The man next to him was just as sallow, but less angular. He had a small attaché under his arm. His eyes were uncovered, and they shone blue in the warm electric light from inside. 

His mother was shivering, he noticed. Whatever had been holding him there evaporated, and he ran back down the hallway. The shorter man looked down at Jake as he wrapped his arms around his mother’s waist, pressing his cheek to her side and glaring up at them. 

“Why-“ His mother started, reflexively bringing a hand to Jake’s shoulder. The taller man spoke first, his smooth voice making Jake’s teeth grind. He seemed smarmy, all false charm and insincerity. Jake disliked him immediately. He hated the way he tilted his head stiffly, the way his eyes seemed to glow through the glasses. He looked just like the rich bastards that traipsed through Jake’s little town on their way to more glamorous destinations. 

“Hello, Ksenia. May we come in?” He grinned, all teeth. Who are you, to say her name?

“Mama-“ Jake looked up at her, and she glanced back down, face level, hands shaking where they were wrapped in the fabric of Jake’s shirt. The man turned to Jake, crouching down, each tooth in his smile just a tiny bit too long. 

“Jakob. You’ve grown.” He chuckled, reaching out with a leather-gloved hand. Jake ducked away from his reach, pulling on his mother’s hand until she excused herself. He ignored the piercing looks from the men in the doorway. His mother guided them to the little dining room. Jake’s eyes skimmed over everything quickly, taking it in. There were pictures of him on the mantelpiece, a few of his mother’s sketches pinned to the wallpaper. A fruit bowl sat in the middle of the table, a few apples in the center. Jake and Ksenia barely fit in the space between the radiator and the table with its crooked leg, pressed together. Jake’s mother crouched next to him, a hand on each of his shoulders, gently squeezing. 

“You need to get to school, baby.” She said softly. Jake bristled. 

“I won’t leave you alone with those creeps-“ He puffed himself up, pushing his shoulders back and his chin up, trying to look as tough as possible. His mother laughed quietly, chucking his chin with her hand. He suddenly felt very small, looking back at the men on the stoop. Right now, he couldn’t do anything to help her. But later, he would. He’d grow up to be big and strong, and she’d never have to worry again. 

“I’ll be fine. Please, just go.” His mother said firmly, reaching across the table and placing a shiny red apple in his hand. He ran his thumb over the smooth skin, looking up at her, trying to dissect her expression. He glanced over the wrinkles beginning to feather outwards from her round green eyes, the set of her jaw, the way her lip quivered. It was firm in his mind. He didn’t want her to feel like this ever again. 

“Okay.” He nodded slowly, not knowing what else to say. She smiled at him then, reaching up and ruffling his hair. It was a worried smile, more for him than herself. 

“You don’t want to be late, now. Hurry.” 

—-

Jake spent the day in school impatiently, fidgeting nervously with his pen, taking it to pieces and reassembling it as fast as he could. As it always was, this only made the minute hand on the clock above the chalkboard crawl by slower. He could barely believe it when the teacher set down her ruler and dismissed the class, but he jumped up immediately, shoving his things haphazardly into his bag and sprinting out the door. He heard Ms. C call out behind him, annoyed, but he barely registered it, putting all of his energy into leaping the schoolyard fence and turning down one of the side alleys. He didn’t care what anyone thought. He needed to get home. The thought of his mother, alone with those dangerous people (for he had no doubt they were dangerous, he felt it instinctively) was too much to bear. 

He sprinted down the drive and took the front steps two at a time. His key clicked as he turned it, but the door was already unlocked. It swung open, hinges creaking. He could see straight down the hall to the back door, held open by a wedge of wood. In the backyard, his mother was hanging the white sheets on the criss-crossing clotheslines. The rain had stopped, and the warm sun and light wind was causing them to sway like golden-edged ghosts. The sky was a deep, clear blue. 

She smiled when he approached, adjusting the final clothespin on the corner of a sheet with a free hand. The other hand balanced the washtub, full of the sheets she’d washed. Every morning, she went around and collected the washing from the neighbors, then cleaned and dried it. Every evening she went back around, exchanging the folded sheets and clothes for her salary. Jake reached her side, and stuck a hand into the washtub, pinching a clothespin between his teeth and reaching up on his tiptoes to hang the sheet from the line. 

“How was school?” His mother asked, almost reflexively, like she did every day. Like everything was normal. For a moment, Jake forgot that it wasn’t.

“The same as always, Mama.” He chirped, trying to sound chipper. His mother knew how badly he was doing in class, she saw the report cards. He didn’t want her to worry about him, so he swallowed the shame and they pretended it was fine until the proof surfaced at the end of the term. Was it his fault that the blackboard seemed to swim when he tried to concentrate and his mind was always going a million miles an hour? 

“Hm. You’re working hard?” Ksenia asked, adjusting a clothespin for him. 

“Yes.” He lied. His mother smiled gently, not quite believing it but resolving to try. 

Jake glanced back at the house, to the light in the upstairs window. His bedroom. Had he left it on? 

“Darling, there’s something we need to talk about-“ His mother’s voice was nervous, he could hear her quivering. He reached up and put a hand on her arm to steady her.

“How did you get those freaks to leave?” Jake asked, unable to tear his eyes away from the light in the window. He was sure he’d turned it off in the morning. Now that he was looking closer, he noticed movement behind the curtain. 

“I... couldn’t. I gave them your room. It’s temporary.” His mother swallowed nervously, hanging the last sheet and crouching next to Jake, gently taking his hand in hers. Her eyes begged him to understand, to take this in stride, but he felt questions burning a hole in his brain. 

“Who are they to just waltz into our lives-“ He spat, clenching his little hands into fists, feeling his nails dig into skin. His mother sighed. 

“You’ll understand when you’re older. Some ties can’t be severed so easily.” She said simply. But Jake knew there was more to the story. She couldn’t lie, not to him. He knew her too well. 

“I’m old enough! How can I protect you if you won’t even tell me-“ 

“He’s your father.” She said suddenly, and the admission hung in the air, heavy like something alive. Jake could feel his mouth drop open. 

His entire life he’d wondered who his father was, ever since he learned that making a baby takes two, that most children had a mother and a father. There were exceptions, of course, he knew about Livya, who had confided in him that she lived at home with two mothers, instead. They’d moved out of town when he was seven. Someone had found them out. 

It hadn’t been exceptionally important- he loved his mother, and he’d never missed the presence of a father. As far as he was concerned, they were overrated. But he wasn’t immune to curiosity.

“His name is Albert Wesker.” His mother said slowly, tripping over the unfamiliar American name. 

“Which one?” 

“The one with the glasses.” The tall creepy one. Jake was sure that man slept standing up. With his eyes open, like a shark. He couldn’t imagine him speaking tenderly to anyone, let alone his mother. “The other one is named Petrov.” She finished, glancing up at the window as if afraid they could hear her. 

“Do you love him?” 

“I... don’t know how not to.” She paused, breathed in. “I met him when I worked for his pharmaceutical company. He was... charming. I think that’s where you got it from.” She reached over and pinched his cheek. Jake scowled but didn’t push her away. He was too close to the truth. Better to not risk it.

“I don’t love him.” He said flatly. 

“I don’t expect you to. He doesn’t expect it of you either. Albert was never really a man for emotions of that kind.” His mother smiled sadly, crossing her arms over her chest, hugging herself. Jake felt something in him snap. His first time hearing about his father, and he was just some no-good freak who didn’t have the stones to treat his mother properly. 

“I think he’s a coward, leaving you all alone with a baby. Just a stupid, creepy coward with horse teeth-“ He could feel his voice rising, feel his lips curl into a grimace. He wanted to march up to his room and... what? Hit him? Cuss him out? Could he even do anything? His mother must have been following his train of thought, because she looked at Jake nervously. 

“Please, Jakob. Just promise me you won’t fight with him.” She gestured for him to keep his voice down, glancing at the window again. A cloud skidded over the sun, and the wind rose, making the grass at Jake’s ankles rustle. Suddenly, it was cold. His mother began to shiver almost immediately. She’d always been frail, sensitive to hot and cold. Jake stepped up to where she was kneeled, wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She lifted her hands and locked them behind his back. He rested his cheek on the top of her head and whispered,

“Why? He’ll fight back?” His mother shook her head, he could feel her hair brush his arm. 

“His friend is... protective. Albert won’t hurt his son, but Petrov might.” Jake nodded. He wasn’t strong enough, yet. But he would be. And anybody who tried to hurt her would have to go through him first. 

“Okay, Mama. For you.” He said, gently. 

—-

They stayed for a week. Wesker and Petrov mostly kept to themselves, playing with the chemistry set they’d set up on Jake’s desk. At night, curled up in his mother’s tiny bed, he’d listen to her rattling breathing. Sometimes, he could also hear the men talking through the thin walls. Their conversations were in English, and they spoke fast, so he could only get some of it. He picked out phrases and conversations between the big science-y words.

They were on the run, hiding like cowards from American authorities. They had precious cargo in their little suitcase, vials crammed full of deadly viruses. 

“How’s the Hidalgo virus coming?” Wesker’s voice was flat. Whenever he spoke, it was always emotionless, dead. 

“The mutation rate still isn’t high enough. We need to up the reproduction speed. It’s dividing at maybe two, three times a second.” Petrov replied.

“Too slow.” Wesker snapped.

“I know that.” 

“Then make it work. I won’t see this project fail. Clear?” There was a thud, like something being thrown to the ground. Jake flinched. Behind him, his mother stirred, sighing quietly. 

“... Yes. Of course, sir.” Petrov spoke again, quieter. Nervous. 

They were manufacturing diseases. Making people sick. Jake listened to them bicker and threaten for a week, barely able to sleep. He was up all night, jittery with nervous energy. He was half expecting one of them to walk through his mother’s door and- Well, he wasn’t sure what would happen after that. Wesker didn’t seem the type for random acts of violence. He preferred to kill people without even touching them- by infecting them with a virus and watching them wither away. Like everything else he did, it was cowardly. 

Jake hated him most for that. 

—-

The week passed with very little contact and no incident- much to Jake’s surprise. Just like that, they left one day while he was at school. He came home and his mother had made biscuits. Fall was coming on quickly, and a cool wind made the back door rattle in its frame. They spent the evening on homework, then played cards with Ksenia’s battered deck. Life was back to normal, just how it should be. His father was gone, never to return. He didn’t miss him. He’d gone ten years without a father. Everything would be just fine without him. 

How was Jake supposed to know that two weeks later, his mother would fall ill? 

—-

“Wait. Stop. I know him.” Jake sighed, raised the walkie to his ear. There were a few background noises, nothing distinct. 

“What?” Piers looked at him sharply. 

“That man. He’s a friend of Wesker’s-“ Jake started, but from the speaker of the radio came a loud bang, something hitting the ground hard. Piers was still looking at him, like he was asking for answers, but Jake couldn’t give them right now. Not when Sherry was in danger. He needed a plan before Petrov found out that Sherry and Helena were on the wrong side-

Oh. There was an idea. 

“I know what we have to do, but there’s no time to explain. This guy isn’t really the type to take prisoners.” Jake glanced down the hallway again, nervously. The radio was silent, for now. 

“If you think I’m just going to run in there blindly-“ Piers started, crossing his arms and glaring up at Jake. Jake pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. Keep your cool. Even if he’s being a prick.

“I can fix this, but you gotta trust me, okay?” Jake put on his best negotiation voice, stepping back towards Piers and putting a hand on his shoulder. Piers didn’t seem convinced.

“You’re really pushing it right now, Jake.“ Piers snapped. He was pushing it, he knew. But what else was he supposed to do? He’d spent all this time trying to get Piers to trust him, but trust had to be earned and Piers was stubborn to boot. Jake lifted his hand from Piers’ shoulder, and pressed his palm to his cheek. His thumb drew a line across Piers’ cheekbone, fingertips brushing his short-cropped hair. Come on. Clock’s ticking. 

“I swear I won’t let anything happen to you.” He said softly, watching Piers deliberate, biting his lip and looking to the side, at the video camera feed from the first floor. They were closer than he’d thought, he could hear Piers breathing measuredly, in and out. Jake knew the urge to just say fuck it and kiss him probably ranked high on his laundry list of stupid and reckless things he’d done, but he couldn’t help it. In that moment, he just really needed Piers to trust him, and it was torture watching him think on it. 

Luckily, Piers started to speak before Jake could do anything he’d regret. 

“I can’t fuckin’ believe I’m saying this-“ Piers reached up, curling his fingers around Jake’s hand on his cheek. Jake’s heart skipped again, just to spite him. He hoped Piers couldn’t hear it. “Alright. Lead the way.” Piers sighed after a moment, letting their hands drop. Jake nodded quickly and they ran down the hallway, stepping together in time. 

—-

“If everything goes south, I’ll give you my gun. It’ll probably be a bit of a scuffle, though. Are you gonna be able to hit him?” Jake muttered, tilting his head to listen to the radio. Quiet conversation. Nobody was fighting- not yet. 

“I don’t miss.” Piers said evenly. Was he bragging? It was always hard to tell with him. He got the message, though. Prodigy sharpshooter. Did he have to get a big head about it? 

Jake nodded as they approached the closed door. Behind it, he could hear Petrov’s voice. He gave the signal, and Piers reluctantly turned his back to Jake. Jake wrapped his hand around Piers’ wrists, holding them together behind his back. It was important that he look like a hostage. Jake didn’t want to think about what’d happen if Helena and Sherry’s captors didn’t buy his ruse.

“Just follow my lead.” He said, reaching over and pulling the door open. He shouldered into the room, quickly looking everything over. The first floor control room was in disarray, papers and files tossed in every direction. A few chairs lay upturned in the mess. At the far end of the room was a long desk, covered in computer monitors. A back door led outside. Sherry and Helena were standing near the desk, and each of them had an Umbrella operative behind them, pointing a very large gun. Jake swallowed nervously. At least they weren’t hurt. Nearby, Petrov stood, looking just as scary as the day they’d first met. He’d clearly updated his look, a neat suit and polished loafers. A tiny red and white umbrella was pinned to the lapel. So he was trying to keep Umbrella alive? Talk about beating a dead horse. If he thought he could fill Wesker’s shoes, he was dumber than Jake thought. He definitely didn’t have the spine for it. There were 4 of his cronies in total, though two of them looked less like security and more like a science detail, if the starched white lab coats were any indication. Jake cleared his throat and yelled,

“What the hell is going on here?” His voice carried across the room, and everyone looked up. Sherry’s face brightened when she saw him, barely able to keep down a smile. I’ve got you, Supergirl. Helena looked annoyed. Probably thinking he’d taken his sweet time. He couldn’t blame her. 

“Jake Muller. You’ve-“ Petrov started to speak. Jake was already sick of hearing his voice. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve grown.” He interrupted him, pulling his best sneer. 

“Is that-“ The goon holding Helena piped up, tilting his head and squinting at Jake. 

“That’s right. Wesker the second. I’d say you have about five seconds to tell me what you’re doing with my prisoners before I lose my fuckin’ patience.” Jake hissed, glaring each of them down. Helena glanced at Sherry, eyes wide. Sherry nodded her head. Jake hoped that meant for her to trust him. Helena didn’t seem convinced. 

“They were breaking in, stealing data-“ Helena’s captor spoke again. 

“And I had it under control. Do you wanna explain to your boss that you ruined my sting operation, or should I?” Jake shot back. Petrov looked pleased. Jake felt a little sick, but there were more important things at stake than some creep thinking he’d decided to take on the family business. 

“Uh-“ The crony looked confused, glancing at Petrov for help. He just smiled that sharp smile of his and said nothing. 

“Shut up. I didn’t want that question answered, dumbass.” Jake rolled his eyes. 

“How are we supposed to know you’re with us? I’m gonna need papers, Umbrella ID, something-“ One of the scientists pushed forward, setting her hands on her hips and fixing Jake with a suspicious look. Guess not all Umbrella workers were brain-dead. 

Fuck. Jake hesitated, words failing him. In front of him, Piers tilted his head. The room was completely silent for a moment, the woman glaring at Jake, and the rest of the group slowly starting to look at him suspiciously. Fuck, Jake, think of something-

Before anybody had a chance to speak, Piers brought his heel down on the top of Jake’s foot, hard. No, no, not now- Jake yelped, and his grip slipped open, freeing Piers’ hands. Piers turned around fast- Fuck, when had he gotten so fast? Jake felt a fist connect with his cheek, and then a kick right to his sternum. His ribs exploded with pain, and he crumpled. The force made him stagger backwards, slamming into the back wall. The second hit hurt so much he forgot how to breathe for a second. His head was swimming, but he could see Piers more or less clearly. He wasn’t even looking at him. Jake had hoped this was all some elaborate ruse, but it was looking less and less likely. He’d fucked it up- the plan, Piers, everything. 

At least it was a familiar feeling. Right now, with Piers hating him, he knew where he stood. 

Behind them, by the computer desk, Helena whipped her head backwards. She collided with the Umbrella security, and he yelped, clutching his nose on instinct to stem the flow of blood. Jake would’ve laughed if his ribs didn’t hurt so fucking much. She’d broken his nose. Helena turned around quickly, yanking the gun out of his hands and cracking him across the face with the grip. Just like Jake, he fell. In the commotion, Sherry also managed to wriggle free, pulling her guard off-balance and securing his weapon. Helena turned the barrel of the rifle towards the rest of the Umbrella goons, and Sherry did the same, breathing hard. Three pistols were immediately pointed in their direction, and the room was quiet again, everyone locked in an uneasy standoff. 

Jake realized that Piers was right above him, reaching deftly into Jake’s holster and grabbing his pistol. Was it just the head trauma, or did Piers look like he wanted to say something? His hand brushed gently over Jake’s shoulder as he stood.

“I always knew you were a traitor. Didn’t buy the “reformed” shit for a fucking second.” Piers spat, rolling his eyes and stepping back. Even through the throb in his ribs and the headache building behind his eyes, Jake could feel his stomach drop. Maybe before this wouldn’t have hurt him so much, but now all he could think about was that look on Piers’ face, all of last year’s hatred and anger returning in a flash. 

One of the Umbrella operatives was sprinting towards him, but Piers spun on his heel, pointing the pistol at Petrov’s head. The Umbrella guy stopped in his tracks, eyes flickering from Petrov to Piers. Petrov grimaced, dropping the pistol in his hand. It clattered on the tile floor, startling Jake. 

“Move and he dies.” He said calmly. 

“You can’t shoot all of us-“ The woman who’d questioned Jake before spoke up. Her words were certain, but her tone was not. Piers laughed. 

“You wanna try me? This is a semi-automatic Colt 45, and I have a firing rate of about half a second. Plenty of time. And, oh-“ The gun clicked as Piers pulled out the clip, checking the number of bullets. Quickly, before anybody could move, he snapped it back in. “A full magazine. Thanks for that, Jake.” Piers glanced over at him, a sarcastic smile flashing over his face. The Umbrella operative that had tried to reach him before did so again, barreling forward, trying to snatch the gun out of Piers’ hand. Piers glanced at him, annoyed, and fired a shot at Petrov. The bullet grazed his cheek, sizzling over his flesh and leaving a half-cauterized mess of a cut. Jake watched him bite down a gasp, grit his teeth against the pain. The bullet buried itself in the wall, less than a quarter of an inch from his ear. Again, Petrov’s crony stopped. Piers rolled his eyes. All this confidence and bluster might’ve been hot if Piers’ anger wasn’t also directed at Jake.

Actually, who was he kidding? It was hot anyway. 

“Try that again and I won’t miss. Clip holds seven, and I’ve fired one.” He paused, raising his free hand, pointer finger bouncing up and down as he performed a quick count. It started with Petrov, and ended on Jake. “You’ve got six people. Can any of you count, or do I need to spell it out for you?” He chuckled quietly at his own joke. The Umbrella operatives glanced between each other, all of them looking downright terrified. Except for Petrov. He was smiling, all teeth. Blood was running down his gaunt cheekbone and dripping onto his neck.

“What are you waiting for, idiots? Go!” He yelled after another long second of silence. The group stumbled over each other to pick up their unconscious friend, and Sherry reached forward, pushing one of them hard with the barrel of her gun. 

“We’ll meet again. Jake, come on. I’ll get you caught up at Base.” Petrov paused at the door after everyone had filed out, fixing on Jake with a grin. Jake’s head was still a little fuzzy. What the fuck was he supposed to say? 

“Not so fast. This one’s mine. I figure I’m owed his life.” Piers spoke before Jake could come up with a good lie. Wait, what? This was a little much, even for Piers. If he thought Jake was a traitor, why’d he want him to stay?

“Killin’ him’s a waste of perfectly good genetics-“ Petrov started, growling at Piers. He raised the handgun and put a bullet in the door frame, right next to his head. Petrov stared at the little hole, the cracked plaster, and decided it wasn’t worth it. He brushed wood splinters from his lapel, turned tail and followed his team across the parking lot, as fast as they’d come. Piers watched him go, pistol held ready in his hand. In a few seconds, they’d hauled it through the gate and turned down the alleyway, out of sight. Piers nodded to himself and turned around, fixing his gaze on Jake. His hand reached out behind him and pulled the door shut. Helena rushed to lock it, slam the deadbolt home. Piers’ face was unreadable. Jake started to speak, hoping to explain before it was too late.

“Listen, Piers-“ 

Piers set the gun on the table and almost ran to Jake. Jake flinched, hands coming up to protect his face. Piers dropped to a knee and threw his arms around Jake’s shoulders, pulling him into a hug. Jake froze for a moment, unable to process. Only for a second, though. Quickly enough he decided he wasn’t misinterpreting it, and he wrapped his arms around Piers’ waist, hugging him back. Piers’ nose was pressed to the crook of his neck. He could feel the quickened pulse in Piers’ chest, up against his. It also made his still-tender ribs burn a little bit, but he ignored it. He had a feeling this was rare for Piers, and he planned to enjoy it as long as he could. They were okay. Alive, and still friends. 

As always, Piers pulled back first. He looked Jake up and down, worrying over the tiny split in his cheek. 

“You’re okay, right? Sorry about your ribs, but I had to sell it. We might still need your connection to Umbrella. I doubt we’ve seen the last of them.” Piers’ hand went to his side. He looked genuinely apologetic. All that animosity was for show, then? Jake grimaced. In another life, Piers would’ve made a great double agent. Jake was just glad to be on his side. Piers turned, looking around the room. He found what he wanted in a moment, a little first aid kit nailed above the entrance. Sherry caught him looking and brought it down, tossing it over. Piers caught it deftly and clicked it open, rummaging through the contents. 

“‘S fine, on account of the whole ‘saving my sorry ass’ thing. Try not to make a habit of it, though.” Jake sighed, watching Piers dump a box of bandages and a plastic-wrapped roll of gauze onto the floor. He glanced up and smiled at Jake.

“I was sure we were goners.” Sherry piped up, looking nervously at the computer screen atop the desk, watching the download continue. Piers had finally found what he wanted, and Jake heard a crack as he twisted the ice pack, hard. Sherry popped her head over his shoulder and knelt in front of Jake too. Piers lifted the ice pack to Jake’s ribs and held it there. He reached over with his free hand and grabbed Jake’s wrist, guiding it upwards to rest on top of his. They held still like that for a couple seconds. Piers looked stern, but his eyes were softer. 

“Keep that on. You should’ve done this before.” He nodded to Jake, pulling his hand back. Jake kept the pressure on his ribs. 

“You betcha, Doc.” He winked. Piers went a little bit pink around the ears. He stood up quickly and walked away, heading down the hallway to where they’d stashed their bags. 

“They didn’t hurt you?” Jake turned to Sherry, who shook her head, smiling sheepishly. 

“Down, Jake. I’m fine. Helena stalled them.” She said cheerily, glancing back at Helena. She was talking to Piers, comparing notes on their respective maps. 

“That Private Nivans is something, huh?” Sherry raised her eyebrows, tilting her head at Jake. Jake laughed quietly, reaching up with his other hand to gently sock her in the shoulder. 

“Subtle.” 

“I’m just saying! I didn’t expect you to be getting along this well- or, really at all. It’s sorta a miracle that neither of you’s killed the other yet.” Sherry shrugged. She wasn’t wrong- they had beaten the odds a bit. It was strange, remembering their arguments when he’d first seen Piers on that balcony. It seemed like such a long time ago. 

“We’re at a point where it’s get along or die, you know? This antivirus is bigger than both of us.” Jake glanced over at Piers and Helena. They’d raided the filing cabinet and were now jabbing pins into their maps, having some sort of argument. 

“You’re right, Jake. And that’s big of you guys, settin’ aside your differences for a good cause.” Sherry smiled, reaching over and giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “But it helps that he’s cute.” 

“Sure does.” Jake grinned back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually don't really have much to say for this one. As always I love comments & feedback. I've started drafting for the Helena/Sherry fic too- 2 fics on ao3 is NONSENSE and I need to put SOMETHING in there.


	9. jake: iv

“Jake, Jake-“ Piers was speaking close to his ear, shaking his shoulder gently. His ribs twanged, and he grit his teeth. His eyes were still closed, and he tried to chase the last few moments of sleep he could find. His head felt hot and heavy, like it was stuffed full of cotton. Piers was shaking him again. 

“Hmm?” He muttered, turning his head away. Five more minutes... He realized he was exhausted. It had come on so suddenly, one moment he’d just decided to sit down, the next he was being shaken rudely awake. He felt a little cold- was it nighttime already?

“Wake up, come on. We have to go.” Piers sounded worried now, shaking him a little harder. He cracked an eye. Still daytime, he could see the sun beginning to set through the blinds. 

“Just... dozed off for a sec. Sorry.” He sighed, rubbing his eyes. When he opened them again, Piers was still there, frowning at him.

“You look like hell. Maybe we should wait a minute...” He said softly, tilting his head and looking Jake up and down. 

“I’m fine. Besides, you don’t look any better.” Jake set his jaw and tried to sit up, but suddenly his arms and legs felt heavy. Whoa. Piers reached a hand out and pressed his palm to Jake’s forehead. It felt freezing, and Jake pulled back on reflex, wincing. 

“You’re warm.“ Piers said, a nervous edge to his voice. He placed his thumb on the skin below Jake’s eye and pulled downwards gently, staring into his eyes. 

“Quit manhandling me. I’m fine.” Jake reached up and pushed Piers’ hand away from his face. Piers looked annoyed, and quickly brought it back. Couldn’t take a hint.

“You’re hurt because of me, I’m not going to-“ Jake interrupted him, shaking his head. 

“I can keep going- I’ll be able to finish the mission. Is that what you wanna hear?” He snapped. Everything was annoying him somehow. Sounds bounced around in his head, everything too bright and loud. He just wanted to lie his head back against the wall and sleep...

“Don’t say that shit.” Piers almost looked hurt for a second, but quickly enough he settled back into annoyance. He sighed and spoke softly,

“You know it hasn’t been about the mission for a while, Jake.” He had his hand on Jake’s collar, fidgeting with the fabric. His eyes were open and round, looking up at him. Suddenly, everything fell into place. His freakout when Jake got bit, fussing over his ribs, and now this. Piers wasn’t as detached as he tried to be. He was worried about him. Not just because of the antivirus, or for some fucked up sense of duty. He almost laughed.

“Then what is it about?” Jake said, tilting his head to the side. He was already pretty sure of the answer, but he wanted to hear him say it. Piers bit his lip. For a second, he looked like he was going to say something. Instead, he started to stand, pressing a hand to his knee. He wasn’t ready to talk about it. That was fine. Jake could wait.

“I’m getting Sherry-“ He said quickly, turning towards the door. Behind it, Jake could almost make out Sherry’s voice. It was louder than usual. Arguing with Helena. 

“Don’t- come on.” He reached out and caught Piers’ wrist. Piers stopped still, looking back down at him. He used his hand to pull him back down, and Piers didn’t resist, kneeling next to him again. 

“It’ll just worry her, and she doesn’t need that right now.” Jake sighed. Through the thin wall, the argument continued. Piers looked at the door again, like he was deliberating. Jake released his wrist. His thoughts were all sort of hazy, but something told him it was a good idea to push his luck. He reached over and wrapped his arms around Piers’ waist. Piers looked confused, but didn’t say anything. 

“Let’s just sit here for a minute...” Jake said, leaning until he could press his cheek to Piers’ chest. His skin was cool through his shirt. Piers sighed, he could feel it ruffle his hair. He rested his chin on Jake’s head, one of his hands going to the back of his neck. They sat like that, still and silent, for a while. Jake’s eyes seemed to get heavier with every blink, until he couldn’t open them anymore.

The other side of the wall was quiet, he realized suddenly. Piers hadn’t moved, though he was sure he’d dozed off a bit. He was brushing his fingertips across the softer hair at the back of Jake’s head. He heard footsteps, then the bang of a door being opened into the concrete wall. He cracked an eye, looking up at Sherry in the doorway. She turned her eyes on them, waving a hand over her shoulder. Jake felt Piers tense, his hand stilling. 

“It’s now or never.” Sherry said, an annoyed edge to her voice. Helena crossed the open space behind her, pulling her bag onto her shoulder. Jake nodded and lifted his head, trying to get his limbs to cooperate. He’d gotten a single knee up when Piers called to Sherry,

“Jake’s sick. He’s running a temperature-“ His voice held a little bit of a quaver, something that Jake now recognized as nervousness. He was all... worried for him. Any other time, any other person, this would’ve been a good thing. Instead, all he could think about was how much he hated seeing Piers so scared. Sherry sidestepped the stack of crates in the center of the storage room and came to crouch beside him.

“You know what they say about snitches, Piers?” Jake hissed to Piers, only half joking. Piers smiled in return, rolling his eyes. Sherry took his hand, reaching her fingers for his pulse. She furrowed her brow, watching his hand tremble between hers. He saw it too, how his body moved without his say-so.

“Jake, you’re shaking.” Sherry whispered, placing two fingers on his wrist. Her eyebrows pulled together. The skin throbbed with pain where she’d pressed, and Jake gritted his teeth. 

“Hey, what’s-“ She turned his hand over. The skin over what remained of his cut had become bright red, shiny and swollen. Fuck. Above him, Piers drew in a breath. 

“Secondary infection. He got bit yesterday.” He said quietly. Sherry looked from Piers to Jake, eyes wide. She dropped Jake’s hand, and he watched it fall to his lap, like the circuits had been cut. 

“How are we gonna get out of here?“ Helena’s voice came from the doorway. Sherry shook her head, pressing her fingers to her temples. 

“I said I’m fine.“ Jake started, scowling in Helena’s general direction. 

“Shut up.” Sherry, Piers and Helena all snapped more or less at once. Jake huffed and dropped his cheek back to Piers’ chest. Helena considered him for a moment with a funny look in her eye, but said nothing. 

“Can you stand?” Sherry piped up, taking his hand again. Piers slid an arm under his shoulder, holding him steady. 

“I’ll manage.” Jake replied, pushing against the floor while Piers lifted him. Sherry grabbed his other side, and all three of them managed to get him upright. He hated this, how helpless he felt. Something tiny and scared and mean in the back of his head told him it was a mistake, depending on other people like this. He told it to pipe down. Piers steadied him as they started to move, and he just concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. 

“I’m gonna go get the gate.” Helena called, turning on her heel and disappearing down the hallway. Sherry twisted her head to look after her, huffing in annoyance.

“Don’t leave us with- ugh!” Sherry looked about as angry as she got, grinding her teeth as she and Piers helped Jake hobble towards the back door. 

“Seems like your partner’s bein’ a real piece of work right now.” Jake laughed, though it came out more like a croak. 

“I’d have put it nicer.” She said mildly. 

“I know the feeling.” Jake sighed, glancing over at Piers. He didn’t seem to notice, focused on undoing the latch. Sherry giggled. The door swung open, and he watched as her expression dropped from amused to terrified. 

“Fuck.” Piers said beside him. Jake’s head was heavy, but he managed to turn it, look out into the yard. Maybe fifteen zombies were congregated in the street, a twisted mass of hands reaching between the gaps in the fence. The gate to the street was beginning to strain under the weight of the bodies against it, he could hear the chain link buckling. 

Helena came rushing down the hallway, putting a hand between Piers’ shoulders and shoving. Piers stumbled forward, yanking Jake along. Jake tried to look at her sharply, but he was sure he didn’t look particularly intimidating in his fever-ridden state. She glared back. 

“Go. The gate’s open. We have to move.” Helena barked. Sherry pulled at Jake from the other side, and they took off as fast as they could. Jake’s feet were heavy as hell, but he managed a stilted half-run, half-stumble. They ran over cracked pavement, under an overhang, and around to the back of the building. As Helena had promised, the gate was standing open. Jake tried to count his blessings as he surveyed the way forward. 

It seemed like every fucking infected in sight had started to lurch its way towards the sound of the gate opening. It was smart, he supposed. Open gate meant humans in a hurry, which meant food. They’d come at the exact wrong time, almost like-

No, that was crazy. Umbrella didn’t have that kind of tech. Nobody could control zombies, that was the allure of using them as a bioweapon. 

“What do we do-“ Sherry glanced behind them at Helena, skidding to a stop. 

“Run. Hang the first left, hopefully we lose them in the alleyway.” She called, sprinting past them. Sherry watched as she ran through the crowd, dodging infected and pulling their attention. A few of them gave chase, starting to stumble after her. He felt Piers tug his arm from one side, leaning forward and nodding to Sherry. She nodded back and ducked under Jake’s arm, pulling away from them and following Helena down the alleyway. 

As fast as they could, Jake and Piers stumbled past the gates and down the center of the street. Most of the infected had followed Sherry and Helena, leaving only a few of the less mobile ones behind. Piers helped him stay out of their way as they headed towards the alley Helena had mentioned. There were a few close shaves, but Piers still had Jake’s Colt and he kept them away. 

Eventually, Piers pulled him to the left, and they ducked behind some debris and overturned trash cans for a moment. Behind the flimsy barrier Jake could hear a few infected stumble past, but thankfully they didn’t seem to notice them. Jake looked up, glancing further down the side alley. Sherry and Helena were crouched a few meters ahead, pressed with their backs to the brick wall. When the sound (and smell) of the nearby zombies retreated, they joined Piers and Jake. 

“This is where we part ways.” Helena whispered, glancing over her shoulder nervously. Her whole body was tightly wound, like she was ready to spring into action at any second.

“Wait, you can’t just-“ Jake lifted his chin defiantly, glaring over at Helena. 

“If we don’t find Ground Zero, there’s no antivirus.” Sherry said flatly, rummaging around inside her pack. Jake sighed and leaned against the wall. She’d already made up her mind, and even he couldn’t do anything about that. Sherry could be stubborn when she wanted to. A few seconds later, she retrieved a red and white striped flare, which she placed in Piers’ open palm. He stowed it in his bag. 

“Use this when you get there. Hopefully there’s enough people left at the lab to let you in.” She said, looking Piers firmly in the eye. He nodded back. 

“We’ll meet up with you at the lab. Take good care of him, okay?” Sherry reached down to Jake, brushing the back of her hand over his forehead, wincing when she felt the heat his skin was giving off. 

“You’ve got my word.” Piers said quietly. Sherry smiled in return. 

“Let’s go.” Helena was already halfway back down the alley, sizing up the fire escape ladder in front of her. 

Just like that, they parted ways. 

—-

“Come on, come on. We’re almost there.” Piers hauled Jake’s arm further up on his shoulder for what felt like the hundredth time. Jake was finding it harder and harder to stay upright. No matter how hard he tried to keep his feet moving on in front of the other, his head was killing him and he was shaking violently.

“The lab?” Jake muttered, confused. They couldn’t be that close, could they? Piers shook his head. 

“No, too far. I’ve found us somewhere to sleep tonight. Just stay awake for now, okay?” He sighed, leaning to check around a corner. In Jake’s state, landmarks and street signs had ceased to mean anything, but he was pretty sure they were weaving through side streets, crawling slowly west.

“Goddamnit.” Piers swore under his breath. Around the corner of the gray cement building milled a group of zombies, slowly shuffling in their direction. They’d been followed all day, encountering infected everywhere they turned. It had only gotten worse when they passed the Central Quarantine Gate, Helena had been right about the concentration of infected being higher on the north side of town. Piers pulled them back against the wall, pressing a finger to his lips. On the other side of the wall, the shuffling steps continued in their direction. They were in an open, empty alley, and they wouldn’t be able to get out of view before the things reached them. Piers glanced left and right, eyes lighting on a large garbage bin with the top unlocked and open. He sighed ruefully and began to drag Jake over. 

Luckily, it was empty and dry. There were a few pieces of paper scattered at the bottom. Jake could hear Piers sigh in relief, and he managed to crack a smile. Piers watched the corner as Jake tried to climb in, getting most of the way there.

“I got it-“ He muttered, trying to pull his boot out from where it was caught on one of the side handles. Piers reached down and pulled it out just as he wrenched himself forward, and the force caused him to somersault into the bin, landing squarely on his ass. He winced, but it hadn’t made much noise, and nothing had been hurt but his pride. Above him, he saw Piers choking back laughter, pressing his hand to his mouth. Jake raised a hand and flipped him off. 

Around the corner, one of the infected growled, low and long. Piers jumped a bit, wasting no time in tossing his pack into the bin beside Jake and climbing inside. The container was relatively tall but the base was only a few feet square. Piers had to wedge himself in on top of Jake, half on his lap with their legs tangled. Jake wrapped an arm around his waist, keeping him balanced. Piers reached up to pull the lid down, and they were plunged into darkness, save for a few slivers of light behind the hinges. Jake blinked until his eyes adjusted. Piers put a hand over his mouth, and even in the gloom Jake could see his eyes flicker nervously side to side. 

“Stay quiet. If they don’t hear anything, they won’t stick around.” He whispered, pulling his hand back. Jake nodded, and Piers let his hand drop to Jake’s chest. They were still for a moment, listening to the plodding footsteps outside. He’d stopped shivering a bit, though Piers’ body still felt cold where it was pressed to his. They were so close like this, all curled together. 

“You’re cold.” Jake tilted his chin up to speak quietly into Piers’ ear. He felt him tense slightly, fingers curling into a fist on his chest. Piers lifted his hand again, feeling for Jake’s cheek. Despite the lack of light, he could tell Piers was making a face. 

“I think it’s more that you’re running a fever.” He said back. Jake laughed quietly, and they lapsed into silence again. Piers turned his head to the side and leaned until his cheek was resting on Jake’s shoulder. They listened to the footsteps continue past their hiding place and move on without pause. A few more minutes of stillness until the infected had moved on, and Piers lifted the lid cautiously, glancing back and forth. He nodded down to Jake.

“Coast is clear. Sorry about that.” He seemed genuinely rueful, shrugging his shoulders. Jake caught his arm before he could stand. 

“I didn’t mind.” He smirked. Piers looked at him again, tipping his head to the side. Eventually, he chuckled, slipping a hand under Jake’s shoulder and helping him struggle to his feet. 

—-

Jake was falling asleep by the time they reached their destination. Piers had to keep pinching him awake, much to his annoyance. 

Piers did so again, jostling Jake with his shoulder. Jake sighed, leaning over and resting his cheek on top of Piers’ head. 

“We here?” He muttered. Piers huffed. 

“You’re being incredibly annoying right now.” He reached up and pushed Jake until he was upright again. 

“I’m sick. Cut me some slack.” Jake snapped. Piers slowly dropped to a knee, propping Jake up against a wall. He tried to guess where they were, but everything just looked like bricks and trees and sky, no details. Above him, he heard Piers fiddling with a locked door. It was small and red, set into a smooth wall. Service entrance, most likely. 

“Do I have a choice? ‘Cause I’d rather not.” Piers shot back, just as the lock opened with a click. His face lit up, grinning, as he twisted the mechanism and pushed the door inwards. How cute. 

“Nope. You’re stuck with me.” 

Piers sighed, like it was the biggest inconvenience in the world, and slowly helped Jake to his feet. 

—-

It felt like he passed out for a bit after that. He didn’t really remember what Piers had done to get him here, but he was lying on a bed with crisp, ironed sheets. There was a window set in the wall, and the world outside was dark. The room was painted a neutral color with a matching shag carpet. A generic print of a painting was hung above the desk across from him. Hotel room, no mistaking it. Jake turned his head towards where he assumed the doorway would be, groaning as the motion made what felt like every single muscle in his body burn. Another door on the far wall opened, and Piers poked his head out. His hair was dark with water, and Jake could see a towel thrown over his shoulder. 

“Good. I thought you’d croaked.” He said flatly. 

“You won’t get rid of me that easily.” 

“D’you want to shower? There’s no electricity so it’s freezing, but the water’s still running.”

“If I can crawl over there, then yeah.” Jake tried to lift his head, prop himself up on his elbows, really do anything except lie there, but his body didn’t want to respond. 

“I’ll help you.” Piers offered. “Don’t ask me to do your back, though.” 

“Did you just make... a joke? I heard that right?” Jake laughed. 

“I’m full of surprises.” Piers grinned. He finished drying his hair and walked across the room to his pack, fishing out his spare set of clothes. He really wasn’t wearing much aside from his boxers and a towel. It didn’t really look like it under all those clunky layers of the BSAA mandated uniform, but he was pretty built. Nice. He yanked on his trousers, pulled the black long-sleeved undershirt over his head. When he turned back around, he caught Jake’s eye, blinked. Jake raised an eyebrow.

“What?” He reached up, patted his head. “I got something in my hair?”

“Nah.” Jake sighed. Maybe he was straight? But no, that didn’t seem likely. Probably just especially stupid. He managed to prop himself up this time, swinging one leg over the side of the bed. Piers sighed and took his arm, leading him to the bathroom and sitting him in the shower. 

“I’m gonna go make a supply run.” He said, pulling Jake’s foot into his lap.

“Can you steal me some painkillers?” Jake groaned, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Technically, it’s not stealing.” Piers grimaced, starting to pull at the knots in his laces. One by one, he loosened them until he could slide the boots off. 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night. If you hop over the pharmacist’s counter you can get the good codeine stuff.” Jake shrugged. Piers pulled one boot off, tossing it over his shoulder where it landed on the bathmat with a muffled thump. 

“How do you know-“ Piers stopped, pulled a face. “Nevermind. Don’t tell me.” The other boot came off in due time, landing next to its pair. Piers nodded and stood to leave. He made it most of the way out of the door before he leaned back in. He fixed Jake with a stern look. 

“Don’t drown.” He said, only half-joking. And then he was gone. 

—-

Jake took a cold shower. In some fucked up turn of events, it actually helped him feel less like he was going to freeze to death. Afterwards he crawled between the starchy hotel sheets and passed out. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Piers shook him awake, back from his supply run. 

“How are you feeling?” He said softly, checking Jake’s temperature and nodding. Jake hoped that was good. He refused to be a burden, in any sense of the word. 

“It doesn’t hurt if I close my eyes and lie really still.” He joked, pulling a strained smile. 

“I’ll get ice. Maybe we can get your fever down.” Piers went back over to the doorway, fishing an ice pack from his bag. On the way back, he filled one of the canteens at the sink and shook a small white pill from a little bottle. He cracked the ice pack and laid it on Jake’s forehead, and then put a hand gently behind Jake’s head and helped him drink some water. The pill went down easy, and Jake prayed it would kick in soon. The shower and the sleep had helped matters, but he was still cooking inside his own skin. He opened one eye and looked up at Piers.

“Wait, am I contagious? ‘Cause we’re definitely fucked if both of us get sick.” Piers had clearly already considered this, and he answered quickly, lips twisting into a sarcastic smile. 

“Doubt it, unless you’re planning on biting me.” He shrugged, then raised a hand to his mouth to cover a yawn. It had to be late. 

“You need to sleep.” Jake said. Piers shook his head. 

“I don’t like the idea of you in here alone, not when you’re sick.” He glanced nervously at the door, like something would break it down any second. As it had since they’d first come, it remained still. 

“Then stay.” 

“Yeah, I guess the couch is-“ He glanced behind him at the grey loveseat, stiff and uninviting. Was he serious? 

“Quit playing dumb. I’m not in the mood.” Jake crossed his arms and glared up at Piers. He could be stubborn, too. Piers ran a hand over the empty side of the big bed, like he was thinking it over. Eventually, he sighed and lifted the other side of the covers. Jake blinked. Usually that would’ve taken more arguing. But Piers just slid under the blanket and kneaded the pillow down. 

“‘Night then.” He said, quietly. 

“Goodnight.” Jake said in return, closing his eyes and hoping the painkillers would work quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the infection thing seems kinda sudden but I really did have it in my drafts lol.... I just think those kinds of tropes are really important for this kind of slow burn thing bc of the inherent homo tenderness in taking care of somebody else.... I promise the next chapter will be more eventful! it's weird to think that i'm past the halfway point for this fic tbh!


	10. jake: v

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6N4a7RX5x7E i've been listening to a lot of old Metric (particularly this song) while writing this chapter so i thought i'd share!

Jake’s nightmares were usually memories. His psyche didn’t need to conjure up monsters, he’d met enough of those already.

He remembered being seventeen and walking down the center of a street, surrounded by burnt-out buildings. With every gust of the powerful wind, a flurry of wet ash would whip around him, sticking in his hair, gluing itself to his face. The siding on the buildings was peeling off in huge sheets, exposing their charred bones. Between the timbers the sky was grey, heavy with rolling clouds and tinged with a sickly green. He recalled the tornado warning that had played on the city’s air raid system this morning, and picked up the pace. Somehow he couldn’t remember where he was going, but it was important. It was vital that he get there on time.

Maybe this wasn’t a memory. In his hand was a familiar briefcase, holding the catalyst and the sample.

He passed a destroyed storefront with the front windows blown out. The glass lay on the ground in a million pieces, with the exception of a few larger shards clinging to the frame. For a moment, Jake saw a figure. Tall, deathly pale, lips pressed into a hard line by anger or annoyance, he could never tell which. The indistinct form of his father stared at him from inside the collapsing building, eyes glaring red under his dark sunglasses. Jake reached for the door handle, and the door opened, making the half-melted hinges shriek in protest. He weaved around piles of ash and wooden shelves that may as well have been charcoal briquettes. Between the remains of the furniture, his father’s face remained still. He made his way to the back of the shop as quickly as he could. His father was like a harbinger- death followed him wherever he went. He needed to chase him away- he couldn’t stand to lose anything else. Where did he get off, just showing up? Jake was going to give the murderous bastard a piece of his mind, the way he’d wanted to for seven years.

He turned a final corner, pushing a charred metal desk out of the way, not caring where it fell. He looked towards where Wesker stood-

Oh.

It wasn’t a window behind which his father lurked. It was a mirror, smeared black and cracked at the corner. He looked at his own face, painted white with ash and hiding behind dark glasses. It was the same as his father’s, the same square jaw, pointed nose, thin lips. For a moment, the light bent funny, and the lenses of his dark glasses shone red. He pulled the glasses from his face, let them drop to the ground, watched the lenses shatter. His eyes were still drawn back to the mirror, to the face that had terrorized his mother. The only difference between himself and Wesker was his mother’s blue-green eyes, shining from his face. His vision was swimming, and the mirror dissolved into a shapeless blob. The tears he desperately tried to keep in started to spill down his face, stained grey with the ash from his cheeks. He wiped his cheek with his sleeve, but they didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop any of this. Not the war, not his mother’s death, not the creeping influence of his father. No matter how hard he tried, his path was set out for him.

He curled his hand into a fist and brought it crashing into the mirror, watched the cracks spread until the fucking thing burst out of its frame. Turning on his heel, he left the destruction behind and headed for the doorway, praying that his tears would dry before he made it back to base camp. His knuckles were bleeding, he could feel it drip down over his fingers. As he weaved back through the collapsed shelves, he heard a shout, a woman’s voice calling his name.

“Jake!” Sherry screamed. Her voice was shaking with fear. Jake broke out into a run. He pushed aside some charred debris and found that instead of the door to the shop, he was faced with that flat, grey expanse of the laboratory floor. Above them, Simmons was lit by the sinister glow if the fluorescent lights, shouting indistinct orders to his men. Sherry was crouched behind a shipping crate, frantically loading bullets into her pistol’s magazine. He ducked and ran to her, at her side in a moment. She looked up at him, smiling in relief.

“You made it.” Sherry laughed. She finished loading the mag, slid it into the gun with a click and pulled the hammer.

“I’d never leave you behind.” Jake said softly. Behind Sherry, he caught a flash of motion. Quickly, he put himself between the Umbrella solider and Sherry, firing a shot from the Colt he found at his hip. It hit the man in the head, and he buckled. He whipped his head around, looking for danger. All around them, the Umbrella cronies circled in closer. Where had they come from? This wasn’t how he remembered it. He wrapped his arms around Sherry, pulling her tight to his chest. She shivered in his arms.

The first bullet only skimmed his shoulder, leaving a hot trail of blood that dripped down his arm and soaked into his shirt.

“Jake, you have to run.” Sherry whispered, blue eyes round with fear. Her voice was urgent, but Jake shook his head. 

He opened his mouth to reply, and a second bullet burned its way through the back of his ribcage, and searing pain spread through his body. He screwed his eyes shut, breathing hard and heavy. He couldn’t die like this. Who would keep Sherry safe if he was gone?

When he opened his eyes, all he could see was black. He panicked for a moment, looking side to side and pulling Sherry closer on instinct. After a few seconds his eyes adjusted to the low light, and he could see the familiar shapes of the hotel room. He took a long, shaky breath out. The figure in his arms stirred and he realized it wasn’t the right size to be Sherry- too tall. He looked down to see Piers’ sleeping face. Piers was snoring softly, Jake could feel the vibration where Piers’ cheek was pressed to his shoulder. He looked really sweet like this, cuddled up to him. If he knew Piers at all, Jake was sure he’d pretend none of this happened in the morning. But for now, it was nice just to lie still and be close. Piers’ skin was still cool, but less so. His fever was going down, then. Jake closed his eyes, hoping to get a few more hours of sleep.

“Jake.” Piers muttered. Jake cracked an eye. Piers hadn’t moved, and he wondered if he’d imagined the sound of his voice.

“Yeah?” He watched Piers’ face closely, furrowing his brow. Piers still didn’t move, but after a moment he started to speak again. He was talking funny, his words running together.

“‘S not fair.” Piers said, eyes still firmly shut. Jake laughed quietly. He was sleep-talking.

“I want...” He trailed off, muttering something unintelligible into Jake’s shoulder. Jake waited, listening. Piers didn’t speak again, just reached up and threw his arm behind Jake’s head, pulling himself up. He nuzzled his nose into Jake’s neck, humming happily for a few seconds before falling still and silent again. Must be some dream, Jake thought as his eyes fluttered shut.

\---

Jake woke a few hours later. He opened an eye, looking at the sheets next to him. The covers had been pulled back. For some reason, Piers hadn't woken him. Jake shook his head and swung a leg over the side of the bed. To his surprise, his muscles barely twinged. He felt for his ribs, found that the pain had mostly subsided. His head felt lighter too. There wasn't any time to fret over what this meant, how deeply his father must have altered his DNA. He'd never get close to anything like Sherry's healing factor, but this still left a sick feeling in his stomach as he heaved himself into a sitting position. He grabbed a shirt and pants out of his bag, switching the newer clothes for the last few day's bloody rags. 

He was brushing his teeth when the door clicked open and Piers entered, pulling an extension cord behind him. He met Jake's eye and nodded towards the transmitter lying on the desk. 

"I got a message from Sherry a few hours ago." He started plugging the machine in, tuning the dials. Jake swished some water around his mouth, quickly moving out to join Piers. They pulled the flimsy chairs up to the desk, Piers finishing the tuning and pressing a button to play the recorded message. Sherry's voice emanated from the machine, and Jake let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. 

"Field Officer Birkin to Private Nivans. We made the rendezvous last night. We'll be here maybe another day, and then back to the lab in two. I know you're doing everything you can, but I hope Jake is feeling better soon. I'll see you both at the lab. Birkin out." Sherry sounded rushed, and Jake could hear faint voices in the background, arguing. Piers reached down and pressed the record button. He tilted his head and looked over at Jake, who nodded back. 

"Muller to Birkin. I'm feeling better already. We're close by, just another day or so." He tried to sound cheery, hoping Sherry would hear his voice and take comfort knowing he was still kicking. He finished his message, sitting back in his chair. Piers pressed forwards and spoke into the mic. 

"I'm keeping him out of trouble. We'll be there by tomorrow, barring any huge detours. Good luck, Sherry. Muller and Nivans out." He spoke quickly, with a clear enunciation, hitting stop when he was finished. Piers turned to Jake, like he was about to say something. Before he could speak, a gunshot sounded outside. A few shots in quick succession, a submachine gun. Piers rushed to the window, Jake following quickly behind. Piers' hand pulled the curtain aside and they peered down to the street. Three people, in black uniforms with sleek black helmets. Or- not all people. The man furthest from Jake was walking with a recognisable shuffle- he was infected. One of the other men fired the submachine gun again, but his hands were shaking, and the spray of bullets swung wide, missing the zombie entirely. He turned partially towards them, and Jake caught a speck of red and white on the breast of his uniform. 

"Umbrella." Jake said flatly. Couldn't anything just be easy? Below them, the third man pulled out a pistol and shot the zombie a few times in the chest, until it toppled, twitching in the street. He then grabbed his shaking compatriot and yanked him backwards, turning the corner out of sight.

"He's dragging his friend back into that side street... Why?" Piers muttered, leaning against the window, trying to see downwards. 

"To hide?" Jake shrugged.

"There's no infected around anymore." Piers shook his head. 

"Then there's something important in that alley."

"We should go after them. It's no coincidence they're nearby, not after that debacle at the guardhouse."

"Yeah. Let's move." Jake pulled back from the window, reaching down to grab his pack. Piers let the curtain fall and did the same, beating him to the door.

By the time they got outside, the street had once again fallen silent. Jake eyed the corpse in the middle of the road, but it didn't move. Piers poked his head around the corner of the building, squinting down the alley where the Umbrella operatives had disappeared. Jake caught a hint of movement at the end, right before it terminated in a brick wall. One of the officers was lying propped up against the side of the building, head lolling to the side. Unconscious, maybe, but for some reason Jake suspected worse. The other operative was scrambling to move a wooden crate aside, intent in his task. He didn't even notice when Jake and Piers crept up behind him, peeking out from behind some bins. 

"Fuck." The Umbrella soldier cursed loudly as the crate rolled over, knocking against the wall with a crash. He looked up to see if anything had heard, and Jake and Piers quickly ducked back behind the bin.

"Is anybody there?" He called nervously. Piers' mouth formed a silent curse as footsteps resonated against the brick walls, coming towards them. Jake looked at him, eyes wide. Piers put a finger over his lips. 

Before the Umbrella crony got any further, Jake heard a quiet growl. Uh-oh. A crash. A scream. He stood up as fast as he could, drawing his pistol and pointing it at the two men. Piers huffed in annoyance, quickly rising to join him and fixing his rifle on them as well. It was too late. The recently undead Umbrella soldier had and sunk its teeth into his friend's neck, splattering his chest with blood. Jake pulled his knife from the sheath at his hip and ran forward as fast as he could. The zombie released its grip and turned towards him, but by then he'd reached it. Jake wasted no time burying the knife in its ear. The thing twitched once, twice, then went still. The second Umbrella man clutched his throat, falling facedown onto the pavement. He didn't move either, lying eerily still while a puddle of blood spread outwards from his neck. Piers jogged up from behind him, taking a kneel next to the corpses.

"Where were you?" Jake looked sidelong at him as he checked the dead man's pulse. 

"Watching your back. You looked like you had it under control." Piers shrugged. He turned the body over onto its front, pulling back the helmet's visor to squint at the man's face. Suddenly, Jake had an idea.

"You know, this guy's about your height..." He said, looking over at Piers.

"What do you-" He wrinkled his nose, looking between Jake and the body, trying to find a connection. When it dawned on him, he jerked back, shaking his head. "Hell no."

"Umbrella is obviously planning something, or they would've left town already. This is our chance to find out what it is." Jake tried to sound as persuasive as he could, put Piers crossed his arms and glared at him. 

"Bad fucking idea. I'm supposed to let the only person who can end this outbreak waltz right into the hands of the people that started it?" He snapped. 

"We can handle it. You said it yourself- we might need my Umbrella connection later." Jake could feel his voice rising. Piers pursed his lips, jaw set like he was biting the inside of his cheek. Again, he looked like he was going to argue, but he stopped as if he couldn't find anything to say. He had said that, just yesterday. 

"Fine. But I have the right to pull you out at any moment. As soon as I think it's too dangerous, we're leaving." Piers sighed, defeated, glancing down at the Umbrella corpse with distaste. 

"Deal." Jake grinned. 

\---

They found the entrance exactly where Jake had expected. It was a loose vent, concealed under a pile of crates. The Umbrella men had been trying to make it back to their base. Piers looked down at the vent cover where it was laid against the wall, fidgeting with the tight collar of the black Umbrella uniform. The plastic alloy breastplate had been splattered with blood, and even though they'd wiped it down it still smelled strongly of copper. There was something strange about seeing Piers like this, with the little red and white umbrella on his chest. Jake's own uniform had fit him like a second skin, but he desperately didn't want to dwell on that, not after last night's dreams. So he nodded to Piers, who crouched down and shone his flashlight down into the vent. Maybe fifteen feet below, a clean white floor shone in the glare from the flashlight. Built into the side were metal bars, functioning like a makeshift ladder.

"I can't fucking believe we're doing this." Piers muttered, shaking his head and turning the light off with a click.

"Where's your sense of adventure?" Jake leaned over and knocked Piers' shoulder lightly with his fist. Piers glared back at him. But still he pulled the black helmet up onto his head, securing the buckle under his chin. He swung a leg down into the vent, quietly setting his boot onto the first rung of the ladder. Jake watched the entrance to the alleyway, counting Piers' steps downwards until there were no more ladder rungs and he hit the ground. He followed quickly, pulling the grate back over the vent as he descended. 

They found themselves in a sterile white hallway, stretching far out on either side. There was nobody in sight, and every step they took rang eerily in the silence. 

"Let's do a sweep. See what we can find out." Piers whispered, voice muffled by the heavy helmet. Jake nodded, and they picked a direction at random, setting out. Eventually, they turned a corner and doors started popping up in the walls, smooth hydraulic things with a keypad and a card reader next to each one. As well, each door had a neat blue number and a name inscribed in it. The numbers weren't sequential, seeming to denote some kind of security clearance instead. All of them were locked, no handle on their smooth surface. They passed at least a dozen of these doors, bearing unremarkable names like 'Protein Lab 1' or 'Reagent Storage.' After maybe ten minutes of walking, Jake stopped to examine a door labelled 'Storage Tanks' with a 3 underneath. 

"These numbers..." Piers lifted a hand and traced his thumb over the indents made by the label. He reached into the pocket of his stolen uniform and fished out a small white card. Jake patted his own pockets, but found nothing. He watched as Piers swiped the card over the reader. A green light lit up, and the door swished open.  
Piers slipped the card back into his pocket. The room was tall, the lights not quite reaching the ceiling. The tanks were suspended from an overhead rail, presumably so they could be reorganized. A catwalk ran in between the tanks, the metal grating glowing green from the reflected light. Some of the tanks were empty, others held people, swaying gently in the current from the filter. Jake wrinkled his nose. It had seemed like such a good idea to investigate at the time, but now... all he could think about was those six months trapped in that sterile facility. Not to mention that without Sherry, he might still be there, pacing a featureless cell. He shook his head. No time to think about that. Compartmentalize and move on. 

Piers had noticed how he'd stopped still, and turned to face him, face unreadable beneath the helmet's reflective surface. 

"Everything okay?" He said mildly.

"Just looks a lot like China, is all. Bad memories." Jake bit down on his tongue. Now was not the time to break down. Keep it together. 

"You never really told me what happened back then." Piers said softly, ducking down to examine a label on one of the empty pods. They had reached a crossroads, the catwalk branching out three ways in front of them. 

"What's there to talk about? They tried to make me and Sherry their freaky little experiments and I killed 'em for it." Jake laughed harshly, balling his hands up into fists behind his back. Piers reached up and put a hand on his shoulder. Almost like he was going to say something more. 

From the far end of the catwalk, the hydraulic hiss of a door sounded. Soon afterwards, a pair of light shoes walked down the catwalk, the noise carrying through the whole room. Piers jumped and quickly turned a corner, grabbing Jake by the wrist and pulling him along. Jake smiled to himself. He'd have followed Piers anyway, but it was a testament to Piers' bossiness that he had to lead him like an unruly toddler. They stopped still once Piers was sure they were out of sight of the doorway. Piers was fidgeting nervously, head tilted to one side like he was listening. The footsteps went a bit further and stopped in front of one of the pods. Piers dropped his hand from Jake's wrist, idly looping two of his fingers through Jake's. Jake looked over at him, but his head was turned away, focused on the sound. Two beeps in quick succession. Someone had activated a computer. They messed around with it for about a minute or so, and the nearby pods responded with soft hissing noises, draining and refilling the strange green liquid. Apparently satisfied with this, the footsteps left the way they came. Jake breathed a sigh of relief. Piers was still holding his hand, if you could call it that. He didn't seem to notice, too preoccupied. Again, he pulled Jake along, back to where they'd heard the noise. A small terminal with a touch screen was half-hidden between two of the tanks. Piers let go of Jake's hand absently, pulling his glove off and pressing down on the screen.

"CLEARANCE NEEDED. 3 OR HIGHER." The screen lit up, a red dialog box on black. Piers pulled the key card from his pocket and tapped it against the monitor.  
It beeped, flashing green for a moment before calling up a file list. Jake watched with interest, skimming quickly over the titles. Some of them just had dates, others were labeled with specific projects. Piers picked one at random, pulling up the visor on his helmet so he could read better. 

"Here. 'Homing Beacon Test 5.'" He said, squinting at the letters. Jake pressed closer, looking at the file on the screen. Their shoulders bumped together, but Piers didn't bother to pull away. 

"They were testing some kind of... hormonal homing system. Trying to direct infected to a specific place." He said, morbidly fascinated with the lists of names, dates, dosages. At the bottom, in neat, sterile letters was a list of fatalities. It made Jake's stomach turn.

"I was thinking earlier- wasn't it too convenient that all those zombies decided to show up just as we were leaving?" Piers scanned through tables upon tables of data, looking concerned.

"Petrov must've left one of those homing devices in the guardhouse. That's why all the guards died so quickly- they were overrun." Jake's eyes settled on a small diagram- a sketch of a vial with a complicated cap. Hadn't he seen something like that among the debris on the desk at the guardhouse? He hadn't thought anything of it then. Careless, not to mention stupid. 

"It gets worse. Look at this. 'Airborne Particle Trials.'" Piers glanced back up at Jake, a look of dawning horror on his face. Jake remembered the heavy blue gas, the footage splashed over the news in the days following the outbreak. 

"Just like Lanshiang." He said, feeling hollow. 

"We can't let that happen again. If we could find the room where they worked on it, maybe we could trash the samples. Destroy as much of the research as possible." Piers started flipping through scans, looking at maps and cataloguing room numbers. 

"Won't that draw too much attention? The rest of the facility'd be on us in a second." Jake shook his head. It wasn't like Piers to propose such a reckless plan. There wasn't a very high chance of the both of them making it out of there alive. 

"That's why you have to leave. Take the samples and make it to the lab." Piers stopped, bit his lip. When he spoke again, he looked off to the side, purposefully not meeting Jake's eye. "I'll meet back up with you later." Jake bristled. 

"You must think I'm pretty goddamn stupid. I can tell when you're lying to me, Piers." He crossed his arms, snarling back at Piers. This only made Piers dig in deeper, setting his jaw and shaking his head. 

"You're the only person that's needed at the lab. As your handler, I'm ordering you-" He started, but Jake cut him off immediately. 

"Oh, you're my fuckin' handler now-" Jake rolled his eyes. He really had some goddamn nerve. Piers held up a hand, and Jake suddenly noticed that he looked exhausted. Even so, Jake could tell he wasn't going to give up.

"We don't have time to fight, Jake. Please don't make this harder than it needs to be." He pleaded, and for once Jake couldn't argue with him.

"Fine." He lied. Piers nodded, glanced once more at the map on the terminal. He pulled the visor on his helmet back down, covering his face with a click. Back out into the hallway they went, only this time it wasn't empty. People were pouring out of all of the doors, the hall bustling with white labcoats and black guard uniforms. Jake surreptiously checked his helmet, but everything was in place. They looked just like every other guard in the place. A couple seconds after the door swished shut behind them, a klaxon began to ring through the air. It rose and fell, and red lights began to flash on and off in time with the sound. Jake looked to Piers, who shrugged. Suddenly, someone pushed through the crowd, grabbing Jake by the front of his uniform. Jake reacted immediately, whipping a hand up to push him back, but Piers caught his wrist. He looked at him again, watched his helmet move side to side in an almost imperceptible shake. The man who had grabbed him was yelling over the sound of the horn. 

"What are you idiots doing? Get over to Block B. There's been a containment breach." He was older, with greying hair in a crew cut. His helmet was tucked under his left arm, and below the Umbrella crest was a name and rank. Captain Ross. 

"We need gas masks, sir." Piers reached over and gently tapped him on the shoulder. Ross glared over at him.

"You haven't got them already? Who trained you-" He lifted his hand, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Quickly, he shook his head. "It's not important. Go get your mask from the Armory and get to Block B, double time!" 

"Yessir!" Piers chirped, ducking around Ross and waving for Jake to follow. He wasted no time getting out of there, disappearing into the throng of people, all headed towards what he assumed was Block B. Piers pushed his way through the crowd, ignoring the dirty looks tossed his way. The armory was back the way they came, but even Jake had to admit that the identical white walls were starting to confuse him. They turned a few more corners, the crowd gradually thinning out as they got further from the containment breach. Piers stopped fast in front of a door, swiping the card again and stepping through. The armory was a round room, walls lined with weapons and uniforms. Piers immediately started rummaging around, pulling two gas masks from a pile and tossing one to Jake. He caught it, watching the door nervously as Piers swept ammo cartridges and smoke bombs into his pack.

"Umbrella really isn't what it used to be. He had no idea what we were up to." Jake chuckled, remembering the harried Captain.

"Hosted the yearly BSAA seminar on ass-kissing." Piers said cheerily, zipping his bag up and tossing it back onto his shoulder. He stepped back towards Jake, and he caught a flash of a smile. 

When they stepped back outside, the alarm had quieted, though the red lights still flashed frantically. They made their way through the empty hallways, Jake feeling more and more unsettled the longer they went. By the time Piers swiped his card over the lab's scanner, fear had coiled itself into a knot in Jake's stomach. Before the door could shut, he stepped in. The lab was small, cramped, with the lights low, casting their beams on a single table strewn with discarded equipment. Piers spun on his heel, looking up at Jake with confusion. 

"Go, Jake. You promised to leave." He said, like Jake must have just forgotten. Jake shrugged, picked up one of the sample vials from its holder. It was a blue viscous fluid, leaving a slimy trail on the inside of the glass.

"You said you didn't want to fight. Good thing, 'cause I don't either. I'm not leaving you here." Jake set it down, looking Piers in the eye. Of all the reactions, the last thing he would've expected from Piers was that look of utter betrayal. For a second, Jake faltered. Piers looked so wounded, his eyes wide, his face still. Seeing him like that made Jake's chest feel too tight, pressure threatening to crush him into a pulp. But it wasn't like he could just give up.

"Jake. You have to go." Piers said insistently, and Jake watched his bottom lip shake, just slightly. What was the alternative? Was there even an alternative? If he left, Piers could die. That wasn't an option.

"What are you gonna do if I don't?" Jake crossed his arms, leaned back against the desk. He flashed a smile at Piers, all teeth. Piers' face settled, going from betrayal to something colder. 

"You're being childish." Piers snapped, glaring at him. At least this was familiar. It made him easier to ignore. 

"Court martial me." Jake laughed harshly, reaching over and swiping one of the test tubes off the desk. It hit the ground with a splat, liquid contents spreading into a puddle on the tile floor. He reached for a beaker, but Piers pushed his hand away. He huffed in annoyance and grabbed it again. Piers looked near about ready to kill him as he pulled the beaker away from him, holding it above his head. He stood on the tips of his toes, one hand braced on the desk, the other straining to reach. 

"Quit throwing stuff. We don't know what's in these beakers- it could be toxic. Put that down-" He hissed, annoyed. For a few seconds, Jake played keep-away, until Piers jumped up, catching his wrist in an iron grip and snatching the beaker. They stayed like that for a moment, Piers' fingers digging into Jake's arm. Piers was looking at him like he desperately wanted to say something. If he was going to tell him to get lost again, Jake didn't want to hear it. He stepped back, pulling away from Piers. 

"I'll destroy the files. You toss the samples." Jake said, turning to the filing cabinets behind him. Piers said nothing. Maybe there was nothing to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's it for Jake's perspective- next chapter is going to be Piers again! If you were wondering what's going on with him, I promise you it's just as stupid and repressed as you thought. I might switch back to Jake for a bit at the end, I haven't decided yet. it's so crazy that i'm 2/3 of the way through this fic already......... as always comments/reviews/thoughts are GREATLY appreciated as my usual beta couldn't be reached for this chapter......


	11. piers: vi

Piers held himself very still as he looked over the desk. As long as he stayed poised, his hands didn't shake. Absentmindedly, he loosened the buckle on his helmet, clipping it to his bag. That dark visor was helping nothing. He started to open the drawers at the bottom, combing them methodically. There had to be something of use in there. He really tried to pay close attention to the contents, but all he could think about was Jake's presence behind him, feeding documents into a shredder. They were trapped behind enemy lines, no sure way out. If Jake didn't make it...

Piers shook himself sharply. He's immature enough to stay behind. So it's your job to make sure he gets out of here alive. No matter what you have to do. 

The final drawer contained yellow bags with a stark black biohazard label. Piers gingerly placed the tubes in it and pulled the plastic drawstring to tighten it. He left the bag on the table and did a quick sweep of the laboratory. The centrifuge and mass spectrometer were empty. A single tube of what looked like blood was tucked next to the electrophoretic analysis setup. Piers saw it glow when he lifted it to the lights, sparkling bright red. He wrapped it up, and then made sure both the bags were secure, in his pack. Samples weren't disposed of in here. There must be an incinerator on this floor somewhere. Piers turned to Jake, who clearly hadn't had the same thought process. The metal can below the shredder had been filled with paper scraps. Jake reached up with his lighter pressed between two of his fingers, deftly popping it open. He lit the little strip of paper in his hand, dropped it into the nest of shreds and watched the whole thing flare. Piers winced. Not the most subtle of disposal strategies. Jake lifted his head.

"We can burn the samples too, if you want." He shrugged, smiling crookedly. In theory, Piers wanted to be annoyed. Jake was risking everything, staying here. To make it worse, he didn't even seem concerned. He looked so nonchalant, leaning against the filing cabinet, watching the research documents go up in smoke. Six months ago, this would've infuriated Piers. He tried to think back, remember how it had felt to see him for the first time in Edonia. But he just couldn't think of Jake like that anymore. He wasn't just some overconfident mercenary, he was Jake. Cocky, impulsive, loyal Jake. For better or worse, they weren't enemies. It only made everything more difficult. Even though Piers desperately needed him to go, seeing Jake here made him feel... secure. They were still in great danger, but somehow knowing Jake would be here to laugh it off made it bearable. 

Of course, he'd rather die than admit that to him. 

"We don't want to risk contamination. I'm going to find an incinerator." Piers shook his head. Jake pushed off the file cabinet, hopping to his feet and beginning to saunter towards the door. He had that smug look on his face, the one that never failed to make Piers' blood boil. 

"Sure, puppy. Let's go." He called over his shoulder, resting a hand on the doorframe. Piers joined him after another second. He quietly made a note of the map by the door, saving a photo in his locator. He suspected they were going to be here for a while yet. 

"Why do you always call me that?" He snapped in annoyance, crossing his arms against his chest. The nickname was infantile, but that was nothing new. Jake really needed to grow up. Nevermind how it always made Piers' heart skip. He took a long, slow breath out and tried to ignore the warmth spreading over his face. 

"'S cute." Jake chuckled quietly, leaning forward and fixing Piers with another smirk. Piers didn't move, concentrating on staying still even though his heart was threatening to bruise the inside of his ribs. Jake had a funny look in his eye as he paused, looking Piers up and down. 

"Suits you." Jake's eyes narrowed, and he pressed forward further, until the space between them was all but gone. He lifted his hand, brushed the tip of his finger over the thin skin under Piers' eye. 

"What was that for?" Piers could feel his self-control slipping further the longer they stayed like this. This was bad. 

"You had an eyelash." Jake's hand dropped from his cheek, coming to rest on the back of his neck. Casually, like it was nothing. His hand was warm, Piers could feel it even through his glove. He looked different here, with the lights low, the soft glow from the door panel shining over his face, making his eyes light up. Oh, Christ, don't. Don't look at me like that. Piers was suddenly very aware of how easy it would be to lift his head and close the distance between them. It would only take a second to wrap his arms around Jake's neck and press their lips together-

Not that he wanted to do that. God, what was wrong with him? He'd always known his job didn't really make time for boyfriends, and it had never bothered him unduly. He didn't have time to moon over anybody, especially Jake fucking Muller. 

So he chalked it up to adrenaline and told himself not to think about it any longer. 

Piers reached for the card in his pocket, swiping it across the display and watching Jake's face flash green as the light changed. A tinny recorded voice came from a speaker set into the ceiling, breaking the silence and making Piers jump. Jake flinched slightly too, hand dropping to Piers' arm to steady him. The door stayed closed as the bored-sounding female recording played.

"This facility is currently undergoing a Level-3 Contamination Event. Dangerous levels of viral agents have been detected in the air throughout the facility. Please equip your regulation Level-3 Air Filtration System and swipe your access card when you are ready to exit."

Jake glanced sidelong at Piers, looking alarmed. There went any hope of Jake getting out of here by himself. Piers quickly unclipped the gas mask from his bag, putting it on. Jake still looked nervous, but he put the mask on anyway. Piers swiped the card once more and nodded to Jake, who stepped out through the door first. Piers followed him, moving from the clear air of the lab into a thin green haze. Piers breathed in through the gas mask, held still as he waited. A virus this potent, at these concentrations, would kill him if the mask wasn't working. A few seconds passed, and nothing happened. Jake was looking at him, head tilted to the side. He couldn't see Jake's face, just the round, reflective eye holes of the mask. Standing there, seeing him in that Umbrella uniform, It made him feel sick to his stomach. Piers had to remind himself why they were really here. 

"Incinerator. And then we leave, as soon as possible." Jake looked side to side, but the hallway was still empty. Piers nodded, opening the map in his locator.

"This way." 

\---

Piers fished the bag out of his pack, dangling by the thin plastic drawstring. Jake finished turning the valve, and the metal plates covering the opening screeched apart. A wave of blisteringly hot air slapped Piers in the face, and he narrowed his eyes. He flicked his wrist, and the biohazard bag made a neat arc, landing in the flickering flames. Quickly, Piers and Jake forced the valve shut, turning it hand over hand. When the opening ground shut again, Piers took a long breath out. He glanced up at Jake, who was- Oh. 

He'd pulled the bottom of his shirt up, using it to wipe the sweat from his brow. Piers knew he didn't need to look, but it wasn't his fault that Jake was all... sculpted. His eyes kept returning to the pattern of scars on his hip. By now, they were old and white, but they clearly branched from a central point, feathering outwards. He knew it wasn't his business, but it still made him wonder. What had Jake's life had been like before Edonia, before Sherry? He wanted to know everything. 

Faintly, he heard Jake clear his throat. Piers tore his eyes away and glanced up at Jake's face. He had that smug little smile again, dropping his shirt back down. Piers quickly looked away, suddenly feeling very glad that the room was already hot. If his cheeks had gotten any redder, Jake hadn't noticed. Beside him, Jake laughed. Piers pretended he didn't hear it and started for the exit, putting his gas mask back on as he went. The hallway was silent and cool, and even the stale filtered air was a reprieve from the oppressive heat of the incinerator. Jake stopped in the middle of the hallway, scratching his head. 

"Now, this place is built like a goddamned maze, but I'm pretty sure the exit's that way." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, tilting his head quizzically. 

"We can't go there. Even on the off chance they haven't sealed it, there's no airlock. We would be releasing whatever's in the air down here." Piers shook his head. 

"Fuck. Is there another way out?" Jake pulled a face. Piers was already pulling up the map.

"The other end of the facility lets out into some warehouses. Block C."

"You mean... past Block B."

"Unfortunately, yes. That end will have an airlock, proper decontamination procedures."

"Let's do it." Jake reached into his holster, pulling out his pistol and pulling the safety. Piers blinked.

"That was easy. I expected you to put up more of a fight." He said, mildly confused. Jake laughed. 

"We don't really have any better options. I'm with you all the way." 

\---

Block A was still dead silent. The only people they encountered were seen in glimpses through lab windows, scientists who'd locked themselves inside. They gathered around the windows as they passed, but Piers and Jake didn't have time to stop. They headed westward, Piers leading them through a dizzying series of hallways. He was just starting to worry that they'd taken a wrong turn when he leaned around a corner and saw the shining metal airlock at the end of the hall. A panel was hung next to it on the wall, reading "TO BLOCK B."

"'Bout time." Jake muttered. Piers didn't take the bait. 

Thankfully, his card still worked on the airlock. They stepped inside with little difficulty, looking at the sleek white walls. Each end was equipped with a window. The window to Block A was spotless, clean glass. Block B's was splattered red. Piers grit his teeth. He'd expected as much, but seeing it was something else. 

"We'd better be on our toes." He said softly, swiping the card again and watching the light switch to green. Jake nodded, heading out first. Piers lifted his rifle to his shoulder. The haze was thicker here, the oppressive green fog reducing visibility to nearly nil. It made Piers nervous, not knowing what was ahead. Not to mention that navigation would be harder than he'd thought. Jake flicked his flashlight on, landing on a streak of blood, leading from the airlock further down the hall. Like somebody had been dragged. Piers stepped gingerly to the side and they continued walking in silence, just the sound of their boots on the tile ringing in the emptiness. A couple times, Piers thought he heard a third set of footsteps, like his mind was playing tricks on him. But they always disappeared after a couple seconds, falling silent. The trail of blood ended in a corpse, not yet gone cold. It didn't rise. 

Piers led them through the hallways as best he could, following whatever minimal signage he found. They'd reached what Piers had to assume was the halfway point when he stopped. This time, he was sure he wasn't imagining things. Footsteps were coming up behind them, and fast. 

"Jake." He called, and Jake spun around, pointing his pistol down the hallway. The laser sight tapered off about ten feet down, disappearing into the mist. 

"You can hear that, right?" 

"We've got company." Jake called. Piers rolled his eyes, lifting his rifle to his shoulder and tilting his head to peer through the sight. Down the hall, he could see the faint outline of a shambling figure, tattered lab coat trailing behind it. He squeezed the trigger firmly and put a bullet in its shoulder. The sound of the gunshot rang through the tight hallway, bouncing off the walls. It jerked back from the shock, a fine spray of blood splattering across its chest. Piers couldn't really see through the mist, but it didn't even look fazed. It continued to advance. He stepped back towards Jake almost instinctively, glancing back at him. Why hadn't he fired yet? 

Jake was leaning against the wall, clutching his head. He barely had time to step towards Jake before something caught his outstretched arm. Thin fingers caught his bicep in a vice, sharp nails catching on his clothing. Another zombie had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. When he turned his head, he found he was looking directly into its cloudy eyes, staring at the lesions spreading across its face. They weren't pretty from afar either, but there was something especially grotesque about the way the greying skin cracked and peeled away, black blood flowing from beneath. He grabbed it by the wrist and tried to wrench its hand away, but its grip was uncannily strong. Instead, he tried to pull back, wary of the snapping teeth. He couldn't go very far, eventually his shoulders slammed against the wall, sending a shock through his whole body. He was pinned, struggling to pull the zombie's hands from his shoulders, feeling his pulse skyrocket. 

Across the hall, Jake yelled something unintelligible and charged forwards, grabbing a hold of the thing's arm and pulling back with all his strength. Piers saw its grip start to loosen, so he lifted his leg and drove his knee into its sternum. It stumbled backwards, directly into Jake's right hook. With the monster no longer in the way, Piers caught a glimpse of Jake' face, one eye screwed shut behind the lens of the mask, blood dripping down over his eyelid. Piers tried to keep his breathing steady, clutching his rifle to his chest. He watched Jake throw punch after punch, saw how the thing's face crumpled in on itself, tongue hanging out. What was all that animosity for? It had barely even touched Jake. 

"Hey. That's enough." Piers called to Jake, disturbed. His eyes behind the mask looked furious, but he nodded back to Piers, reaching for his knife and burying it in the thing's brain in one clean stroke. Piers turned away from him, glancing down the hallway at the still-advancing silhouette. It was almost within reach. Damn. Piers shot it once, twice, three times, until it finally twitched and fell. He lowered his rifle and sighed, his heart still pounding. Jake had pulled the mask up. For a second, Piers nearly had a heart attack, until he remembered. Jake was immune. He was wiping blood out of his eye, letting it drip onto his glove and flicking his wrist until a thin spray of red painted the wall beside him. Piers glanced up at the cut, worried for Jake, but they didn't have time. He must have realized that too, because he wiped at the blood again and stepped over the stiff corpse in his path. The bloody residue left a pinkish smear across his forehead, but he quickly covered it with the mask.

In silence, they continued on. 

\---

"Here." Piers swiped the card across the sensor, hearing the telltale hiss of the airlock door opening. They passed through it easily, stepping out into... another series of featureless hallways. The only difference from Block A and B was the complete lack of gas. The air was clear. Tentatively, he and Jake pulled off their masks. By now the end was in sight. He found the stairwell easily. It was dark and cold, the stone steps clashing with the rest of the facility's smooth tile. It smelled different too, like mould. At the bottom of the landing were a few faded placards. The white lettering was nearly worn smooth, but Piers could still make it out.

"AIR FILTRATION" "WAREHOUSE I-III" 

"Filtration... that might be a way to neutralize the virus in the compound. Or at least funnel it somewhere else." Piers bit his lip, running a finger over the indented letters.

"If they could've done that, it would've happened ages ago." Jake furrowed his brow. Piers sighed, combing his brain to think of a rebuttal. If they had the technology to fix this mishap, why hadn't they? And why had the outbreak come at such an inconvenient time for him and Jake? 

"Unless they meant to contaminate the facility." Piers said softly, looking up at Jake. He knew him well enough now to track the changing expression on his face, going from confusion to fear to anger. 

"Why the hell would they do that?" 

"I'm not sure." Piers shrugged, pushing past Jake and starting to climb the stairs. He heard Jake curse quietly under his breath, but he followed. The top of the stairs provided them with a choice. To the left, a hallway terminated in a set of metal double doors. To the right was a staircase. The placards on the wall in front of them read:

"< WAREHOUSE I-III" "AIR FILTRATION >"

Piers paused here, thinking hard. Jake stopped next to him.

"Which way?" He glanced to the left, squinting at the doors. Each one had a small, grimy window set in it. For a second, Piers thought he saw movement behind the cloudy glass, but he couldn't be sure.

"You check out the warehouse. I'll see if I can get the air filtration working." Piers said nonchalantly, already turning to leave. This was Jake's last chance. He had to go. He barely made it a step before Jake's hand caught his arm in a tight grip. Jake yanked him backwards, pulling them together, closer than they had been before. 

"I didn't fall for that shit the first time, and I won't fall for it now." He snapped, placing a hand on each of Piers' shoulders, like he was trying to ground him to the spot. Piers was sick and goddamn tired of being ignored.

"Just stop being stubborn for a goddamn second and listen to me-" 

"I'm not gonna play into your fucking martyr complex." Jake waved his hand flippantly, rolling his eyes. 

"Excuse me?" Piers sputtered. Of all the stupid fucking things to say-

"I need you and you need me." Jake pressed forwards again, his hand moving from Piers' shoulder to the back of his neck. Piers could feel Jake's fingertips brushing through his hair. He looked up at him, watching the way his eyes went wide, how he tilted his head. For once, his face was vulnerable, open. Before his brain could intervene, Piers lifted his hand and placed it on Jake's chest. He could feel Jake's heartbeat, pounding quickly under his palm. 

"We. Are. Leaving. Together." Jake said, firmly. Piers wanted to argue, because it was easy and familiar, but he looked up into Jake's eyes and found he couldn't. They would just have to find another way. 

"If I haven't met up with you in ten minutes, come find me." Piers sighed. Jake nodded, but he didn't move away just yet. He was smiling just slightly, hands laced behind Piers' head, holding him still. 

"Sometime soon we're going to have to be honest with each other." Jake raised an eyebrow. Piers did his best to pretend he didn't know what Jake meant. He'd spent enough of his life ignoring his feelings that it came as second nature. Just shove it down deep and forget. 

Even so, his heart was still fluttering. 

"Let's get out of here alive first." He said, smiling back at Jake. Jake nodded again, and this time he stepped back. Piers turned away from him, started mounting the steps to the right. Jake slunk down the hallway, and Piers watched him close the door quietly behind himself. 

The top of the stairs terminated in a metal gate, and Piers stepped through onto a catwalk. He peered over the side, glancing down. Below was an open-air warehouse, maybe ten men in Umbrella uniforms milling around, talking amongst themselves. He saw Jake quietly join them, mask off. This wasn't part of the plan. He'd meant for Jake to quietly observe, not barge in there without consulting him. Piers crouched low, trying to move as quietly possible across the catwalk, keeping an eye out for his destination. He'd just have to move fast. 

"Well, look who finally decided to show his face. Wesker Junior himself." When he heard Petrov's voice, Piers had to press his mouth tightly shut. He glanced down to the warehouse floor below, but Petrov was tucked under an overhang, covered by shadow. 

"Sorry I'm late, boss." Jake called, confidently striding across the floor. Piers' started to move faster, scanning every door he passed. He'd made it to the first corner, but the catwalk went all the way around the warehouse. 

"Boss, is it? Funny, because I found no mention of you in our system. No Umbrella ID, no badge number, nothing." Petrov's voice was light, casual. There was something off about it, though Piers couldn't place it. He sounded louder, somehow. Larger than life. 

"You've gotta be kidding me. I risk my ass to get here and you're gonna kick me out 'cause of some clerical error? Some idiot probably deleted the files." Jake scoffed. Piers finally found the filtration room, and he quickly flashed his access card and poked his head through the door. Empty. He'd assumed it would be, given that half the personnel in the lab were dead and the rest of them were on the warehouse floor.

"Come here, Jakob." Petrov laughed, and Piers hoped that was good. The room was small, the back wall filled with complicated screens bearing numbers, bar graphs, figures. There was also a desk with a little computer terminal. Piers sat there wiggling the mouse to make the screen light up. He spent a minute or so scrolling through menus, familiarizing himself. It seemed each block had its own air filtration system in case of contamination. All of the filters had been manually shut off, except for Block C. This only confirmed Piers' suspicions. The contamination event had been orchestrated. Maybe to clean up a mess, maybe for some worse purpose. It was no matter. He couldn't just leave the facility full of that airborne virus, it was only a matter of time before somebody's stupidity leaked it into the outside world. He input the right commands, swiped his card. Slowly, a green icon appeared next to the name of each filter. 

"BLOCK B CLEAR. DISPOSE OF VIRAL MATERIAL IN WASTE COLLECTION IV AT YOUR CONVENIENCE."

"BLOCK A CLEAR. DISPOSE OF VIRAL MATERIAL IN WASTE COLLECTION II AT YOUR CONVENIENCE."

Piers sighed in relief, stood up quickly. Just in time, because the warehouse below had suddenly fallen silent. He scrambled to leave, grabbing the door handle. Before he had time to turn it, it turned on its own, a hand reaching through the opening and grabbing him by the arm. He panicked, wrenching backwards and running into the desk. The door swung all the way open, and an Umbrella guard rushed in, swiping at Piers with his hand. Piers ducked his punch, twisting around him and trying to get through the door. He only made it a few steps before a foot shot out, hooking around his ankle and pulling his legs out from under him. He hit the metal floor with a thud, pain spiking up his shoulder and across his temple. He bit down on his cheek to keep from crying out. The two Umbrella soldiers stood over him, faces stony and emotionless, eyes dead. There was something strange about their faces, the smooth pallor of their skin. Before he could think too hard about it, one of them knelt over him. Quickly, he wound his arm back and cracked his fist across Piers' cheek. Piers bit down, feeling blood surge in his mouth while more ran down the side of his face. He could barely see, blinking the stars out of his eyes. They hauled him up, one guard on each of his arms, and started to drag him back towards the stairs. One of them even took his rifle, tucking it under his arm. Fuck. 

By the time they'd gotten to the warehouse doors, he'd regained enough energy to struggle. So he dug the heels of his boots into the ground, wrenched his shoulders left and right to try and free himself. It seemed like the guards barely noticed, continuing to drag him through the doorway and forwards. When they got out into the open, one of the guards called out,

"Petrov! Look what we found messing with the filtration controls." His voice was deep and free of inflection, almost like he was bored. They dragged him into the center of the room. Piers lifted his head, saw Jake standing by Petrov. He was doing his best to keep his face neutral, but his eyes were wide with fear. 

"He's filtered all the air in the lab, sir. The virus is back down to 0% concentration. We didn't get there fast enough to stop him." The other guard picked up where the first one left off, smoothly finishing his sentence.

"No matter. The experiment was still successful. Let's see who our saboteur is, shall we?" Petrov stepped out of the shadows, stretching his hand out. The cut on his face from yesterday was completely gone, not even a scar remaining to indicate it had been there at all. Otherwise, he looked like shit, all pale with bulbous purple veins crawling up his neck and across his hands. His skin was coated with a thin sheen of sweat, but he didn't seem to notice, grinning that wide grin. He started to walk over to Piers, who panicked, stomping his boot down on his captor's foot. That seemed to get through to him, and he flinched, loosening his grip. Piers quickly pulled his arm away and used his now-free hand to punch the other one across the face. He growled back at Piers, spitting some black shit out of his mouth and baring his teeth. Piers swallowed nervously, glancing around. All the way behind Petrov, on the other end of the room, was an iron door, with sunlight shining through the tiny, translucent window. That was his only chance. Petrov was still slowly advancing, so he feinted left and went right, giving him a wide berth as he started to run. He'd gotten maybe ten feet before Petrov seemed to just appear in front of him, moving faster than should have been possible. He crashed into his chest, and Petrov caught him by the throat, digging his fingers into Piers' airway. Piers stopped still, clutching at the hands on his neck, but Petrov's grip was like iron. Petrov reached up with his free hand and pulled at the front of Piers' gas mask until the straps snapped, tossing it aside. If he was surprised at what he saw, he didn't show it, just shook his head and kept smiling that horrible grin. Jake ran towards them, but he stopped when Petrov held up a hand, digging his fingers harder into Piers' throat. Piers could feel himself gasping, trying desperately to breathe. He pulled at Petrov's fingers, but it did nothing. 

"It really was a good plan. Use your name and genetics to infiltrate our base, steal our data..." Petrov said, sounding almost sad. He pulled Piers up, lifting him up by the neck, until his feet cleared the ground. All Piers could do was twitch, tears springing to his eyes. "Still, it just wasn't good enough. You continue to disappoint me, Jakob."

"Don't fucking touch him-" For a second, Jake looked up at him, horrified. The look on his face made Piers' heart ache. Though Piers could already feel his body going numb, his mouth still managed to form the words 'I'm sorry.' Jake reached for his pistol, glaring down the sight at Petrov.

"What did you say yesterday...? 'Move and he dies?'" Petrov said easily, turning to Piers with a conspiratorial grin, like they were sharing a joke. Piers felt his anger flare up, though all he could do was glare. Jake slowly dropped his gun when Petrov gestured to the ground. It fell by his feet, and he pulled his knife from its sheath too, dropping it also. He kicked both of them across the floor. They scraped over the concrete, coming to rest by Petrov's boot.

"Or maybe he wants to join up, too. I wonder how your little boyfriend feels about immortality. Hmm?" He laughed, giving Piers a shake. Piers could barely contemplate the implications of that sentence, but it still made him sick. He'd rather die than become... whatever Petrov was. It was clear now he was under the influence of something, likely a modified virus. The speed, the strength... it wasn't human. His body was fully numb by now, his hands dropping uselessly to his sides. His vision was starting to swim, darkness creeping in at the edges. Still, he managed to choke out,

"Go... to... Hell."

"Quit playing around. It's me you want, right? My immunity? Let him go, and you've got me." Jake called, an edge of panic in his voice. Piers' eyes flicked to his face, growing blurrier by the second. Piers shook his head slowly. Don't do this, Jake. I'm not worth it. Just go. Jake looked back at him, and Piers knew he'd never be able to convince him. Jake had said it himself.

I need you and you need me. 

He was right, of course. Though it was a sad twist of fate that Piers hadn't realized that until it was too late. Jake's met his eye and looked pointedly down at the knife on the ground. Piers blinked in confusion. What could he be trying to say? Jake stepped towards Petrov, who grinned.

"Glad you've seen the light." Petrov released his grip on Piers' neck, and he crashed to the ground, reopening the wound on his forehead. He lay on his back, unable to do anything except gasp for air. He rolled onto his side, clutching his throat, wracked by a coughing fit. Fuck, everything hurt. He coughed until his throat was raw, spitting up blood. Even as he did so, his hand was feeling its way over the concrete floor. He found the handle of Jake's knife by touch, pulling it to his chest and trying his best to sit up. Jake was almost to Petrov, distracted with his gloating. Piers propped himself up on one arm, took another deep, painful breath, and buried the knife hilt-deep in Petrov's thigh. 

The sound that came from his mouth was barely human, a screechy howl. Jake ducked under his swing and pulled Piers to his feet, half-dragging him over behind some boxes. The whole room erupted in chaos, a few soldiers fleeing, a few more running towards Jake. Piers clutched Jake's knife to his chest, watching the black blood trickle over his wrist. He was feeling better by the second, and while Jake held the soldiers off with his gun, he managed to stand. Jake glanced back at Piers, his face lighting up with a sweet smile. 

"You're okay?" He said eagerly, eyes shining pretty and blue and fuck- they really were going to have to talk if they made it out of here alive. Piers nodded and glanced around nervously, eyes landing on Petrov. He was hunched over, clutching at his leg. Below the cloth of his uniform, his skin was beginning to ripple, the veins on his hands pulsing with a horrible beat. Fuck.

"I gotta get my rifle back." He said to Jake, who nodded, laying down some cover fire. Piers wasted no time in lunging out of cover, making a beeline for the guard holding his gun. He saw him coming, and raised the rifle, but nobody else could use it like Piers could. Piers easily rolled out of the way, springing up and kicking him square in the kneecap. It was more satisfying than he wanted to admit, watching him fall. He snatched the rifle from his hands and lifted the sight to his eye. Jake was still crouched behind the boxes, but a few of the soldiers had him cornered. Piers aimed and fired, two shots in quick succession to the back of the nearest one. He fell, and Jake used that opportunity to sprint towards Piers. Piers caught his hand as soon as he came close, pulling him along. Together, they covered the last few feet to the door and threw it open. The sunlight was almost blinding, the orange glow of a sunset peeking over the horizon. Piers glanced back over his shoulder, slamming the door shut with all his strength. 

In the open gap, just before it swung shut, he saw Petrov's form twist all wrong, and he let out another spine-chilling howl. Jake pushed one more time, and the door closed with a heavy finality. 

They were left with themselves, the warm, fresh air, and an orange sunset.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kfdhfkdjjfdkfj sorry for leaving it off at such a weird spot but the chapter was getting STUPID long. Writing the angsty bits (and the final fight) for this chapter really hurt m'feelings but it was worth it... I think you guys will really like the next chapter too hehe. also i broke my own rule and decided to include BOWs because it became obvious that it isn't a resi story without them lmao. anyway you know the drill please comment i love to hear your #thots


	12. piers: vii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/HFI9M2rVxWA

The sun was almost blinding now, the way it glared across the horizon, burning little holes into Piers' vision. He desperately wanted to rest, feeling his muscles burn and tremble. But he felt Jake's hand tighten on his and he knew they didn't have time. He turned his head and glanced out at the way ahead- the warehouse was situated in a flat concrete yard surrounded by others. A map wasn't necessary- he knew they needed to head west. As quickly as they could, Jake and Piers headed out, picking their way around abandoned machinery. Eventually, the warehouses turned into a parking lot, which bordered a broad street. Even before the outbreak, this place was uninhabited. Factories and warehouses were packed side by side, bay doors flapping open and windows long gone. It took Piers 30 minutes to stop looking over his shoulder. For whatever reason, Petrov hadn't given chase. 

Jake glanced over at the sun, now just an orange sliver. 

"It'll be dark soon. We need to find somewhere to sleep." He raised a hand to shade his eyes. Piers nodded, glancing around. Across the street was an open bay door, the floor beyond dark and silent. 

"In here." He readied his rifle and stepped inside. Beside the door was a panel full of switches, and he slowly flicked each of them on. Jake joined him in a few seconds, pulling the door shut behind them. It was a storage bay, with two doors leading further into the building. Boxes and shipping crates were piled all around, their wooden sides beginning to splinter. Piers headed towards the closer of the two doors. A concrete stairwell went down, narrowing as it went. At the top of the stairs was an electric lamp, sitting inert. Piers wiped the dust from the glass with his glove and flicked it on. Both of them were startled when the cold blue light flickered to life. 

The basement was, as expected, cold and damp. Outside the air was warm, but somehow the inside hadn't gotten the message. It was packed full of boxes, arranged in neat rows. Jake and Piers did a sweep, but there were no infected lurking in the tight corners. Close to the entrance was a dilapidated washroom with a cracked sink and flickering halogen lights. Jake and Piers didn't bother to turn on the overhead lights, as the lantern was quite bright already. Eventually, they found a secluded corner and set about making camp for the night. They'd only set everything down a few seconds ago, but Jake was eyeing Piers nervously. He swung the light up to check the crates around them, and Jake winced. Piers blinked.

"What?" He said flatly. It wasn't his intention to be confrontational, but that was how it came out. Jake barely noticed, searching for something in his pack.

"You're bleeding." He said, pulling out a little white-and-red box with a familiar cross. 

"I'll be fine." Piers replied, trying to sound nonchalant. In truth, the cut on his temple did sting a bit, though it was nothing compared to the headache building behind his eyes. He hoped he didn't have a concussion. Jake wasn't even listening to him, already pulling the alcohol wipes from their package. Piers just watched as Jake put a hand under his jaw, holding his head still and starting to swab at the cut with the sanitizer. If he'd wanted to, he could've resisted. But instead he rested his chin on Jake's hand and tried not to look at all the blood he was wiping from his cheek. He didn't want to know what his face looked like. Eventually Jake was satisfied, placing a little bandage over the cut. He smiled down at his handiwork, pleased with himself. He still didn't remove his hand, not until Piers stepped back. 

Jake excused himself, heading off to refill his canteen. Piers pulled the communicator from his bag, setting it down and fiddling with the controls. No new messages, not from Sherry or anyone else. He sent out his usual hail to Chris, but there was still no response. He found himself staring at the glowing green display until his eyes hurt, hoping for something, anything. When Jake returned, he found him the same way he'd left him, still looking at that screen. No new messages. Piers shoved the stupid thing back into his bag. 

"I called Chris again. No answer." Piers set the lantern down, the blue glow making his skin look washed out, sickly. He stared down at his hands, bleached like bones. 

"You're worried about him?" Jake tilted his head, rolling out his bedroll. With a little hesitation, Piers did too, laying them out with a foot or so in between. 

"Chris can take care of himself. It's... me. He said this solo mission was supposed to test my character, see if I could lead my own team. But I can't do it without him." He sighed, shrugging his pack off his shoulder. Slowly, he started the long process of peeling off the layers of bulletproof vests and tactical kneepads and whatever the fuck else he was burdened down with. His camo net tangled into a knot when he pulled it from his neck, tossing it onto the growing pile. When it was all done, he was left with a thin long-sleeved shirt and his fatigues.

"'Course you can. Don't sell yourself short." Jake looked at him, almost concerned. In this light, the scar across his cheek stood out as a thin red line.

"Didn't I ever tell you he's the reason I joined the BSAA?" Piers shrugged, rummaging around in his bag. Jake blinked when Piers handed him a little ration, neatly vacuum sealed. He nodded in thanks. They sat down to eat, cross-legged on their individual sleeping bags. 

“When I was nineteen, I was just some kid in an army base servicing a backwater college town near Norfolk. I was in the middle of basic training, maybe a couple weeks deep.” Thanks to the influence of his father, Piers had always assumed he’d just follow in his footsteps and enlist. It was made clear that nothing else was an option, and he’d spent his summers and weekends in Navy Cadets in preparation.

“One evening he was hosting a talk for one of the science boards at the college. I recognized his name because I knew his sister...” Piers paused. How was he to explain this?

“You knew Claire?” Jake prodded.

“Not... personally.” Piers paused, chewing the inside of his cheek. “I was... a fan.”

“You were... a Claire Redfield fanboy?” Jake grinned huge, leaning forward on one elbow, food forgotten. Piers crossed his arms.

“I thought she was cool, alright? She didn’t take shit from anybody. Plus, she was like a minor celebrity after Raccoon, so it’s not that weird.”

“Wait, what kind of fanboy? Like the posters-in-your-room kind?”

“No! Well... Just the one.” Piers said hesitantly, bracing himself for the response. Jake bust out laughing.

“Shut up! It’s not funny. She’s a hero.” He shot back. There was no way to stop Jake from making fun of him- and of course he'd never admit that he actually didn't mind it- but joking on Claire was the last straw.

“You’re right, it’s not funny. It’s very funny.” Under Piers' angry gaze, Jake only laughed harder, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth. 

“I met her once, back before I was second in command. At a BSAA/Terrasave mixer. I made an ass of myself.” Piers sighed heavily, remembering that night like it was yesterday. 

“Lemme guess, you asked her to sign something.”

“Well, yeah, but she was really cool about that part. Later, though, I took a bet from one of the guys that I could pop a wheelie on my bike. I did the trick, but fucked up the landing and broke my arm. The Captain had to drive me to the hospital. I haven’t been able to look her in the eye since.” He laughed when he finished, putting a hand over his face. It occurred to him that he'd just revealed something pretty personal. All those BSAA drills on 'Security Risks' were clamoring for attention in the back of his mind, but he ignored them. 

“A motorcycle? Didn’t expect that. Too cool." Jake balled up the plastic food wrapper until it disappeared in his fist. He glanced up at Piers and raised an eyebrow, like a taunt. 

“I’m not liking the implication that i’m uncool.” Piers grinned. Jake shrugged.

“You’re a grade-A BSAA soldier with a boner for authority. I’m pretty sure if you looked “uncool” up in the dictionary there’d be a picture of your face.” His voice was level, all self-assured and teasing, but his eyes were sparkling in the light from the lantern. Piers stopped still for a moment, just looking at him. He liked how blue Jake's eyes looked here, the crooked smile he was pulling. Nearly half a minute had passed before Piers managed to look away. He cleared his throat.

“'Uncool’ isn’t in the dictionary. Not the Webster one, anyway.” Piers said, for lack of a better comeback. If Jake had noticed the long pause, he didn't comment.

“See what I mean? Anyway, what do you drive?” 

“Norton Commando. I got it used and fixed it up myself.” Piers said, relieved. This was an easier conversation. Jake blinked, leaned back on his hands. 

“Surprised?” Piers laughed. 

“I mean, yeah, but it’s also-“ Jake paused, ran a hand through his hair. “That’s my bike. I have the same one.” 

“Really? I sort of expected you to drive, like, a douchey Harley or something.” Piers narrowed his eyes. 

“Douchey?” Jake laughed in shock. Piers shrugged.

“If the shoe fits.” 

“Ouch.” Jake said, though he was still smiling, and it made Piers' heart twist sharply. Quickly, he hopped to his feet, pulling a little kit from his bag. Inside was his travel toothbrush, among other things. He excused himself and found his way to the washroom. 

It was just as ugly as he remembered, the dirty tile chipping away in pieces around the mirror. He brushed his teeth in silence. No shower, so he filled his hands with water from the tap and poured it over his head, using his little cloth to wipe his face clean. The cool water felt nice, and he realized that his cheeks were warm. When he pulled his head back up, he noticed dark, viscous blood dripping from the cut at his temple. He hissed in annoyance and swiped at it with some paper towel, smearing his cheek pink. For a second, he glanced at his face in the mirror. He looked dead tired. As well, bruises were forming on his cheekbones and around his jaw. Just his luck. He stepped away from the mirror, finding his way back to Jake. 

After that, they sat in silence. It wasn't an awkward silence, Piers was just too exhausted to speak for the moment. He tried to read his book, but for some reason it just wasn't keeping his attention. Jake took his bag to the bathroom and stayed there a while. When he came back, he flopped onto his bedroll and lay back, staring at the ceiling. Piers dog-eared his book and let it drop to his lap. For lack of anything better to do, Piers found himself looking over at Jake. In the gap between the bottom of Jake's shirt and his belt, he could see that scar. He knew it was rude to stare, but... he was sure that feathered pattern was from an electrical burn. Now that they were closer, Piers had time to notice that Jake was covered with scars, criss-crossing his arms, his hands, his chest. Of course, this was all just morbid curiosity. That was why he couldn't stop staring. 

"Take a picture. It'll last longer." Jake called out, and Piers snapped his eyes to his face. He was smiling smugly, one eyebrow raised. Piers fiddled with the spine of his book as he spoke, running his fingers over the peeling paper.

"I was... wondering something. It's not like you have to tell me, but I just-"

"Christ, just tell me what you want. None of that indecisive bullshit." Jake rolled his eyes, pulling his arms out from under his head and propping his shoulders against one of the shipping crates instead. Piers should've pulled out a snappy comeback, broken the tension. Maybe if they kept joking around, Piers could keep that distance he desperately needed. How long could he keep up that act? He'd been pretending he didn't need anybody since... Well, since forever. 

All those years of self-reliance had come undone the day he'd seen Jake sprint down that street. For better or worse, it wasn't fair to Jake, pretending he didn't care for him. 

I need you and you need me. 

Piers had made up his mind. He reached down and pulled his bedroll forward, until he was sitting right next to Jake, facing him. Maybe it was just the strange blue light from the lantern, but Jake had a funny shine in his eye. Piers settled with his legs to one side, leaning on his hand. He moved quickly. No time to overthink this. Softly, he lifted his hand, placing his palm on the raised burns on Jake's side. He ran his fingers lightly over the ridged patterns. 

"What happened?" He asked quietly, meeting Jake's eye. Jake glanced back down at him, face going flat. 

"It's not a fun story." He said darkly, and Piers almost lost his nerve. There might still be time to move back, pretend this had never happened...

"I didn't expect it to be." Piers spoke instead, setting his jaw and nodding. The way Jake looked at him in response was familiar, smiling all crooked. 

"Six months is a long time to be locked up. Umbrella, Neo-Umbrella, whatever they're calling themselves-" He winced even as he waved it away with his hand. The memory was painful for Jake, Piers had expected that. What he hadn't expected was the way his chest contracted in response. "They ran every test they could think of, everything from poison to electric shocks. This is what happened when someone set the voltage too high and fuckin' fried me." As he spoke, he glanced down at Piers' hand on his side, still rubbing little circles over the thin white scars. He lifted his own hand and placed it over Piers', using the tips of his fingers to pull Piers' sleeve back, just a bit. Piers took another look at his hand, eyes lighting on the three neat scars that stretched parallel from the back of his hand to the middle of his forearm. Jake was looking up at him expectantly, and it took Piers a few seconds to answer. 

"Zombie dog." He chuckled, "I didn't know scratches didn't get you sick. I was near about ready to cut the whole arm off before Chris told me." Jake smiled at that, and it made Piers' heart skip, just a bit. God, was he eight years old? He bit the inside of his cheek and lifted a hand to Jake's chest, settling on a vaguely circular scar right below his collarbone. Jake looked down at it, as if he'd forgotten.

"Bullet." He nodded after a moment. Without any further elaboration, he lifted his hand to Piers' cheek. There was a tiny, faded scar underneath his jaw. Piers had always known that the way people appeared wasn't the whole story, but it still surprised him that Jake was handling him so... gently. He couldn't help but lean into the touch.

"Bike mishap." He shrugged. Jake's hand was still close to his face, so he decided to get brave and reached his own hand up, lacing their fingers together. On the side of Jake's hand, in the web of skin between his thumb and forefinger, was a tiny pink burn shaped like... Well, Piers wasn't sure. Two short parallel lines with a third crossing them. He looked at it with curiosity, narrowing his eyes. 

"Toaster." Jake laughed, and his head lolled to the side, lamplight making his face light up. Piers smiled and pushed forward, running the side of his thumb over the scar on Jake's cheek. The light made it look deeper than it was, a dark red line. 

"A few weeks after my nineteenth birthday, my squad was sent out on a mission. Things got out of control and I was the only one that made it out. My... boss didn't like that much. Wanted to teach me a lesson." Jake's voice was flat, but his free hand was clenched into a tight fist. 

"I know it's useless, but I wish i'd been there. To help, or..." Piers sighed, trailing off. Jake looked at him for a moment, silently.

"You wouldn't have liked me much back then." He smiled at that. Piers chuckled, shrugging. They'd come a long way, huh? He pressed forward a bit more, until he could almost rest his cheek on Jake's shoulder.

"Maybe not..." He paused, looked up at Jake. He seemed to be waiting for something, watching Piers intently. Had he really been that obvious? Jake's hands quietly moved, coming to rest on his waist. It was strange, being close like this, but not unpleasant. He could feel a soft warmth radiating from Jake's skin. If he wasn't already embarassing himself enough, he was sure a flush was crawling up his cheeks. Jake seemed to find this amusing, as he was smiling softly, eyes still fixed on Piers' face. 

Now, that wasn't fair. Piers found himself desperately trying to collect his thoughts. Jake's eyes were still sparkling blue, and all of a sudden he could feel his heart in his throat and... Ugh. 

"But... I like you now." Piers spoke quietly into Jake's ear, then before he could lose his nerve, pressed two light kisses to Jake's cheek. One above the other, following the thin red line of the scar. When he finished, he turned his head, holding himself very still and very close. He could feel Jake grin, and then there was a firm hand under his jaw. Jake roughly pulled him closer, the hand at his waist tangling in the fabric of his shirt. Instinctively, Piers wrapped his arms around his neck and met him halfway. He could feel Jake smiling for the first little bit, and it made him feel all light-headed. He really was cute, under all those layers of bluster and false overconfidence. There was an air of impatience in the way Jake kissed him. Almost like he'd been waiting for this for a while. Piers didn't mind making up for lost time.

Jake was so warm, and Piers found that he fit neatly into his arms, pressed tightly to his chest. He noticed vaguely that his heart was beating double time, but then Jake teased his lips apart with his tongue and he forgot to care about... well, anything really. He lost himself there for a minute, and it made him realize it really had been too long. It had been easy to tell himself that he didn't need anybody, that his job didn't allow for boyfriends, but it was becoming harder to keep it up now. Especially with Jake's hand slipping up under his shirt, short nails catching on his skin and making him shiver. He didn't pull back until his lungs felt nearly ready to pop, pausing to catch Jake's bottom lip between his teeth. He didn't want to move away, deciding instead to rest his head on Jake's shoulder, breathing quickly in and out. Jake leaned over and pressed another quick kiss to his cheek, bringing a hand up to run it through his hair. 

“I knew you’d come around. Just had to turn the charm on a little bit.” Jake laughed, still speaking softly. Piers felt himself flush again, and he clapped a hand to his cheek. He didn't like the implication here- he'd tried so hard to keep his feelings private. Jake was too perceptive for his own good.

“Oh, ‘cause you’re such a catch? Spare me the narcissism.” Piers rolled his eyes, but the effect was ruined by the dumb smile plastered over his face. He tried to twist it into a frown, and found he couldn't, not when Jake was looking at him, so close and so sweetly-

“Really? ‘Cause if you’re not into it I can always leave-“ He grinned crookedly, pulling back. It startled Piers up. Jake hadn't gotten very far, just pulled a bit away from the stack of crates. He was leaning back on his hands, still smiling. Smug bastard. Piers pounced forward, catching Jake off guard and pushing his shoulders to the ground. 

“Don't you dare.” Piers pulled a face, pouting over at him. Jake responded by putting a hand on the back of Piers' neck and pulling him back down into another kiss, slower and softer this time. Piers relaxed on top of him, melting into his chest. He could feel Jake's hand drifting from the back of his neck, brushing down to his throat-

“Ah-" Piers couldn't help but gasp, feeling the fresh bruises burn where Jake's fingertips brushed over them. The pain was sharp but brief, stopping quickly. Jake's eyes flew open, and he rolled over a bit, until they were face to face again, lying next to each other. 

"Shit, I'm sorry. Are you okay?" His voice had an edge of panic, and his eyes flickered from Piers' face down to his throat. 

"Yeah, just... Petrov's got quite the grip." Piers said, wincing. He knew how it must look by now, that the bruises had time to form. His neck would be a mess of yellow and red and purple, minor hemorrhaging under the skin. Jake looked at it intently, his face dark. His hand at Piers' hip was tensed, pulling the fabric of his shirt taut. He looked... furious, but Piers didn't feel scared. Not for himself, anyway.

"I'm going to kill him." Jake said, with no intonation, his voice level like he was stating a fact. Piers didn't know what to make of it. Hopefully at the end of this, Jake would be right. They'd save what was left of this city and leave together. Piers knew it was hardly ever that simple, but it was a nice thought. Jake glanced back up at Piers's face, and his severe expression softened a little. Slowly, with none of his earlier aggression, he leaned down and pressed a feather-light kiss to Piers' neck. He followed it with another, drawing a line across the pattern of bruises. Piers closed his eyes and let his head drop to Jake's shoulder again. Just for a moment, he entertained the idea that everything might turn out fine. Above him, Jake stifled a yawn, covering his mouth with the heel of his hand.

"It's getting late." Piers cracked an eye and lifted his head a bit. Jake nodded.

"D'you want me to move?" He asked, almost tentative. Piers smiled, closing his eyes again and wrapping his arms around Jake, snuggling into him. He was still warm, and it kept the chill away nicely.

"I'm fine right here. Just turn the light off, will you?" He spoke softly, and he could feel Jake chuckle. With a click, the lantern's light was extinguished. Piers curled up in Jake's arms and fell asleep, deeply and quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okaaaay here it is ʕ´•㉨•`ʔ  
> The word count's a bit low but I felt this was a good place to stop. Thanks to my beta reader!! Hope you liked it!


	13. piers: viii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiiiii so this chapter is almost 2 months late and i'm really sorry... Uni has been kicking my ass recently but i'm done with my midterms and all my work so I can hopefully write the next chapter before I get busy again!! This one doesn't have much action either but i was really excited about this one because it has lots of conversations i've been waiting FOREVER to get to!!! It looks like this fic will end at 15 or 16 chapters. As always I love comments and reviews!

It must have been earlier than usual when Piers woke. His eyes were dry, his eyelids heavy. In the course of the night, he'd moved somehow. He could feel Jake under him, his steady heartbeat pounding in his ear. His arm was thrown over Piers' shoulders, fingers wrapped in the collar of his shirt. He wasn't as warm as yesterday or the day before, but being close to him still kept the early morning chill away. It was also just... nice. To lie there and be held. Just like yesterday morning, when he'd awoken to stiff hotel sheets and felt the heat of Jake's residual fever. In the night, they'd unconsciously come together. For a second, he hadn't even questioned it. In that funny space between sleep and wake, it had seemed normal. Like they'd always been that way. It wasn't until nearly a minute had passed that he'd come to his senses and pulled away.

Of course, that was too fucking embarassing to ever say out loud. 

Piers groaned and rubbed his eyes, blinking them open slowly. There was a little bit of light filtering in from the small, high-set windows, but he still had to squint to read his watch. Maybe they still had time to sleep... 

He read the time and pulled a face. Less than 10 minutes until they were supposed to wake. Slowly, he turned back to Jake, looking him over. He was deep asleep, and his expression was untroubled. Just looking at his face like this made Piers wonder how he'd ever hated it. Slowly, he sighed and lifted his hand to Jake's shoulder. Shook him once, then twice. He didn't respond for a moment, and Piers wrinkled his nose. Just as he was about to shake him again, Jake moved, pulling the hand tangled in Piers' shirt down towards his chest. He didn't open his eyes through any of it, even as he wrapped his spare arm around Piers' waist. 

"Five more minutes." He muttered, tucking his nose into Piers' neck and falling still again. Piers sighed again, resigned. Jake was being an awful influence currently, but... it was working. He couldn't move. Jake must have realized this, because Piers felt his lips curve into a smile where they were pressed to his skin. Smug bastard. 

The next few minutes passed slowly, feeling the reassuring rhythm of Jake's heart against his own ribs. For now, they were still alive. Too soon, they would have to move, collecting their bags and erasing all signs that they'd been here. Though Piers couldn't see it from here, he remembered the map. They could make it to the lab in a few hours. Piers couldn't help but wonder what Jake would do once they were no longer forced together by duty. He hoped he'd stay, but as the light outside grew brighter and harsher, that started to seem less and less likely. 

Piers glanced at Jake again, and realized his eyes were open. He was looking back at him, just as unreadable as the day they met. When Piers caught him looking, his severe expression broke into a soft smile. 

"Is it time?" Jake said quietly, running his fingers through the short, soft hair at the back of Piers' head. Piers nodded ruefully, biting his lip for a moment and pulling himself upright. 

"It'll take us a few hours, but we're nearly there." He said flatly, taking Jake's hand in his and helping him to his feet. 

"It's almost over." Jake muttered under his breath as he started to pack his things, haphazardly tossing stuff back into his bag. Piers wasn't sure if it was just wishful thinking, but he could almost hear an edge of disappointment in Jake's voice. He tried not to think too hard about it. 

His stuff was neatly arranged, so all he had to do was roll his bedroll back up and attach it to his pack. As he did so, one of the other flaps fell open, the buckle giving way. A few things clattered to the floor. He hadn't done it up properly. Piers hissed in annoyance, reaching down and starting to return the things to their rightful places. The final item was a small plastic bag, a bright, toxic yellow. Piers felt something heavy settle in the pit of his stomach. Though he knew the contents, he couldn't help but pull the drawstring open. The little vial fell into his hand, the red contents lighting up in the light from the window. He felt a little ill, watching the liquid slosh around. In the light, he noticed something he hadn't before- a tiny engraving on the side of the cap. 

C Virus Prototype- Handle with care. 

\---

The mirror was still hard to see himself in, streaked with dust and grime. Piers had to wet his hand in the sink and wipe at the smooth surface, pushing some of the dirt away. He prepared himself for the state of his bruises, they'd likely gone green or yellow by now. It couldn't be pretty. Not that it mattered particularly, he was more concerned about the healing. Some of the soreness from last night had subsided, which was a good sign. Piers pulled at his camo net with his fingers. When he saw the smooth, nearly clear skin underneath, he wrinkled his nose. The bruises from yesterday had all but faded, leaving faint yellow patches in the shape of Petrov's fingers. Piers brushed his fingers over the affected area, curiously applying a little bit of pressure. Barely any pain. How odd. 

Piers leaned down and splashed some cold water on his face. He told himself not to worry about it and went outside to join Jake. 

\---

Piers didn't even need to look at a map anymore. Almost there. 

Perhaps it was the early hour, or maybe the odds were finally in their favor, but they barely encountered any infected on their way to the lab. They only had to fight off a few in the industrial district, quickly circumventing them through a series of side alleys. By the time they'd lost them, the sun was higher and brighter in the sky, the last remains of morning fog dissipating quickly. This part of the city was packed with cars again, some lined up like traffic, others lying in piles, tossed together like discarded toys. Piers looked at the strangely deliberate pile-ups and felt glad they were almost home safe. He didn't want to meet whatever had done that. 

The lab commandeered by BSAA and U.S. Government employees was in a larger medical complex, fifth floor. The building itself was old, with fading red brick and an intricately decorated entranceway framed by stone lions. In front of the building was a green lawn, made less beautiful than it usually was by the burnt corpses piled in the center. The sight of it made Piers nervous, but as far as he could tell under the charred flesh, they had once been zombies. All of this was apparent as soon as they rounded the last corner, setting their eyes on their destination. A window on the fifth floor had a light on, Piers could see it even through the glare of the sun. He picked up the pace even though it was reckless, nearly running as he made his way around the last few cars and came to stand in the middle of the lawn. Jake was behind him the whole way, and Piers heard the familiar sound of him pulling the safety on his Colt. Though he knew it was a long shot, he walked up to the wooden front doors and rattled the handle. It was locked, and something heavy was pushed behind it. That was to be expected, but there was no harm in being thorough. Piers dropped to a knee and started rummaging around in his bag, feeling for the smooth cylindrical shape of the flare. Jake looked nervous next to him, finger idly brushing over the trigger as he stared back out into the street. His gaze didn't land on anything for longer than a moment. Piers found the flare relatively easily, pulling it from his bag and twisting the red cap, discarding it. He balanced it upright on the lawn and pulled backwards, instinctively taking Jake's arm to bring him along. He didn't resist, but he did step a bit to the side, placing himself in front of Piers as they crouched next to the hedge bordering the street. Piers was noticing the little things more easily now- Jake had been putting himself between Piers and danger for a while. It wasn't that he couldn't handle himself, but in the early days of the outbreak he'd missed having someone to watch his back. He'd been trained to work in a unit, so why his orders had separated him from Alpha team was beyond him. A few more seconds of waiting, watching the flare spark, and Piers was starting to get nervous. Helena wouldn't have given him a dud flare on purpose-

With a resounding pop, the flare exploded. The noise startled Jake, Piers watched his shoulder jump. He glanced back at Piers, eyes wide. The flare arced into the air, fizzling and glowing bright red. On the second floor, behind the blinds, Piers thought he saw movement, but the red glow along with the sunlight made it hard to tell. 

"If there's anybody left in there to get our message, they've seen it." Piers breathed, brushing the dirt and leaves from his uniform and hopping to his feet. 

"Pretty sure everything in a mile radius has seen it." Jake muttered, glancing over his shoulder again. For now, no infected were around. They headed up the lawn, ducking into the alcove in front of the entranceway, Piers pressing his back to the cool stone wall. Deep within the building, Piers heard movement. He tilted his head, trying to listen harder. Across from him, Jake was staring out at the street, eyes narrowed. 

Piers was sure he'd heard voices, but they were too faint to pick out individual words. He had to stop himself from pressing his ear to the wood of the door. If they were friendly, they'd make themselves apparent. 

"Trouble." Jake called, motioning over his shoulder with one hand, the other lifting his pistol. 

"Fuckin' hell." Piers spat, pulling his rifle from his back and crouching to re-load it. He could do it by touch at this point, so he lifted his head and looked out across the lawn. On the other side of the street, he could see flashes of movement. Something was crawling out from beneath the abandoned automobiles. Piers finished loading his rifle and snapped the cartridge back into place, wincing. He counted three heads, jaws lolling open, teeth clicking together. They struggled to their feet in nearly perfect unison. 

"Only three?" Jake scoffed, closing one eye and aiming his pistol. Piers watched him neatly squeeze the trigger three times, a neat line from abdomen to brain stem. One of the zombies began to switch, falling to the ground. It writhed on the spot for a moment before going still. The corpse fell facedown in the street, a few feet from the closest of the empty cars. Piers nodded to himself, fixing his sights on the second infected, incapacitating it with a shot to the leg and then taking out its skull as it fell. After their crushing defeat yesterday, it was reassuring to watch its brains splatter across the pavement. 

When he pulled away from the scope of his rifle, Piers glanced over the row of cars, searching for the the third zombie. Instead, he caught another glimpse of movement under the car. A skinny, rotting hand stretched out into the sunlight, nails scraping across the concrete as it dragged itself out. Next to it, another. And another. 

Oh, shit. That flare must have made more of a racket than they thought. The gunshots couldn't have helped either. Piers looked over at Jake, who looked a lot less cocky than he had a few seconds ago. The closest zombie was now halfway across the lawn, limping towards them with its hands outstretched. Before Piers could do anything but panic, a loud noise sounded beside him. Behind the door, he could hear the sound of something heavy being pushed out of the way, scraping over the floor. Quickly, the doors opened a crack, just enough for someone to stick their hand out and grab a handful of Piers' sleeve. Jake glanced over at the movement, eyes going wide. He immediately jumped forward, reaching down to swat the hand away, but the person behind the door was faster. They threw the doors open a little further and dragged Piers inside. Piers heard his boot heels squeak across the tiled floor as he stumbled over the threshold. Not the most subtle of methods, but effective. Jake charged in after him, and the person at the door slammed it shut. Piers turned his eyes on her as she pressed her back to the handle, leaning on the door. She had dark brown hair cut to her chin, hidden under a blue ball cap. Unassuming civvies, but a badge hanging from her neck. Piers also noted a bloody bandage on her upper arm, nearly soaked through. She glanced to the right, and Piers realized there was a second person just as he started to push a heavy filing cabinet back in front of the doors. He was shorter, with darker tan skin and tousled black hair wrestled underneath a beanie. He had the same badge hung around his neck. Local PD, or maybe SWAT, Piers couldn't see from where he was. He stepped towards the woman, intending to take a better look, but she stopped him in his tracks when she quickly pulled a pistol from the holster at her hip. The man did the same, pointing it right at Jake. He raised his in response, face going hard. Piers had deja vu for a second, remembering the way he'd looked in China. The only difference was that this time his Colt wasn't pointed at Chris. 

"Put the weapons away." The woman snapped, gesturing to the ground with the barrel of her gun. Piers threw his rifle over his shoulder, feeling it click into its place on the harness. 

"You first." Jake scoffed, clearly not as ready to disarm as Piers was. 

"Jake." Piers said sharply, looking over at him. His eyes flicked from the people across from them and landed on Piers' face, but he didn't lower his hand. 

"What?" He said with an edge to his voice, annoyance showing clearly on his face. Piers sighed, glancing at the presumed government agents. Slowly, hands still raised, he stepped over to Jake. His finger wasn't tight on the trigger, that was a good sign. Piers placed a hand over Jake's, slowly pulling his fingers away from the stock of the gun. His other hand clicked the safety back on and gently took the pistol from Jake's hand. As soon as Piers touched him, his fingers went slack, and he allowed him to take it without a word. Piers could barely believe it- less than a week ago, that would've likely ended very differently. Jake's face was troubled, eyebrows drawn together. Piers met his eye and nodded slowly, opening the holster under Jake's arm and smoothly sliding the pistol back into it. He even replaced the strap that held it in place, clicking it shut. Jake's hand dropped to his side, like he wasn't really sure what to do with it. Piers looked up at him, tilted his head. 

"Just... remember who your enemy is." He spoke softly, glancing back at the people behind him. Jake followed his eyes, seeming to mull over their companions for a moment. He didn't respond, just reached for Piers' hand where it rested idly on his shoulder holster and squeezed it tightly for a moment before letting it drop. Piers stepped to the side, addressing the people across from them.

"We're with the BSAA. May I reach for my badge?" He said, putting on his best negotiation voice, level and quiet. 

"Slowly." The woman nodded, but didn't otherwise. Piers reached into his breast pocket, deftly undoing it with one hand and pulling out a leather case. He flipped it open and held it out to her. She met him halfway, squinting at the name and photo. It seemed to satisfy her, because she handed it back to Piers and slowly, slowly, lowered her pistol.

"Special Agent Birkin's expecting us." Piers breathed a sigh of relief, sliding his badge back into his pocket. The man across from Jake re-holstered his firearm and regarded them with thinly veiled suspicion. 

"It really is you, then." He said, annoyance creeping into his voice. Piers nodded. Without another word, the man turned on his heel and headed down the hallway to his left. 

"You're late." The woman laughed sharply, then headed off too, beckoning for them to follow. 

\--- 

The medical complex was of an older construction, perhaps repurposed from something else. Piers eyed the intricate crown moulding and hardwood floors as they walked, trying to place them. It seemed the building had been renovated recently as well, retrofitted for a new purpose. It took them a few minutes of walking to reach the laboratory section, down a long hallway with boarded windows every few feet. Between the cracks in the wood, Piers could see faint movement, all the way out in the street. He was glad they were inside, and that it was almost over. The man led them up a flight of stairs and to another floor, then turned a corner and paused in front of a heavy metal door. Inside, Piers could hear talking, quiet and steady. The women reached over and yanked the door open, heading inside first. Piers followed on her heels. 

The inside of this lab was chillingly similar to the underground one at the Umbrella facility, but Piers kept that to himself. There weren't really a lot of options available when designing a sterile lab, anyway. At one of the tables, talking seriously with a man in a white lab coat, was a short, blonde head of hair. Sherry was leaning on her hand, glancing over someone's work. When the door opened, she turned slightly, glancing at the source of the noise. Her face lit up when she saw Jake, eyes sparkling blue. Piers glanced back at Jake, saw him smile big and open his arms. He looked so happy when Sherry jumped into them, her head fitting neatly under his chin. Piers couldn't help but laugh quietly. 

"You're here." She said, voice muffled where her face was pressed to Jake's shirt. She pulled back, placing a hand on each of his shoulders and looking him up and down.

"Yeah-" Jake started to reply, still grinning like a kid. He set the briefcase down on one of the desks, and the man that had been speaking to Sherry rushed to take it. 

"You're late." Sherry narrowed her eyes, dropping her hands to her hips. She cut quite the intimidating picture like this, pouting up at Jake. 

"We had to detour." Piers cut in, and Sherry finally seemed to realize he was there, glancing over with a start. Piers glanced around the room at the people working. Their heads were down, but the room wasn't particularly big. He gestured over his shoulder, beckoning Sherry out into the hall. She followed slowly, dragging Jake by the hand and leaning against the closed door, eyeing Piers like she didn't know what to make of him. There was something piercing about her stare. Those baby blues packed quite the punch.

As quickly and concisely as he could, he explained what had happened yesterday, everything from the morning until their narrow escape. Well, almost everything. He glossed over the less pertinent details, like the zombies in the B block, the tiring walk through the industrial district, the... kiss. Some things were best kept close to his chest. 

For some reason, he didn't tell Sherry about the C Virus sample burning a hole in his pocket or the way his bruises had healed overnight. He didn't know what to make of it yet, how to fit it in with everything else. Piers also knew if he told Jake any of that he'd waste his time worrying about him. He needed Jake to be as clearheaded as possible. 

"This is bad. That kind of power, to direct infected like that..." Sherry shook her head, looking nervously side to side. 

"They seemed like they were planning something bigger, too. We couldn't figure out what, but..." Jake shrugged. 

"There have been crowds of infected swarming the West Gate for the last day or so, and they're only getting bigger in number." Sherry crossed her arms and sighed. 

"Trying to break quarantine?" 

"Seems like it." 

"And Petrov is nowhere to be seen." Piers said, annoyed. That man was dangerous, and they had no idea where he was. 

"Isn't that a good thing?" Jake said, raising an eyebrow. Piers slowly shook his head in response. 

"I have a feeling he'll show up exactly when we least want him to." He laughed to himself at that. It would be just their luck. 

"We should tell Chris what's going on." Sherry piped up, looking to Piers expectantly. 

"Chris?" Piers said, perking up. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Jake looked annoyed, crossing his arms over his chest. "He's here?" 

"Yeah, him and Leon are downstairs-" Sherry blinked, like she was genuinely surprised Piers didn't know. He'd told Sherry where he was, but not his second in command? Piers didn't like feeling like an afterthought. 

"I need to see him." He said, turning to Sherry. She nodded, pointing down the hallway and taking off. Jake and Piers hurried after her. 

\--- 

On the first floor was a large, open-ceilinged room that might have been a waiting room before- but all the chairs had been pushed to the walls and all the desks were crowded in the center. This room was busier than the last, people talking and rushing about, organizing supplies, speaking into radios. At the center of the chaos, he could see Chris and Leon, huddled together at one of the desks, deep in conversation. Piers didn't even realize he was moving until he had dived into the crowd, politely but insistently pushing his way through to Chris. He had some vague idea of Jake and Sherry behind him, but right now he just couldn't seem to focus on them. 

"Piers!" Chris called when he saw him, raising his hand above his head in a wave. Piers crossed the last few feet and stood in front of him, looking apprehensively up at his face. He looked fine, mostly uninjured. Leon looked up for a moment and nodded silently. Piers nodded back.

"Seems like you made it here in one piece. You got Sherry's message, then." Chris flashed a grin, putting a hand on Piers's shoulder and squeezing. Behind him, Piers heard Jake and Sherry step up, and Chris' face went dark, looking warily at Jake. Sherry seemed to notice that, but she didn't say anything, just crossed her arms and waited. 

"Yeah, I hadn't heard from you." Piers said hesitantly, and Chris winced. 

"About that... we were off the grid for a bit." He glanced back at Leon when he said this, shrugging his shoulders ever so slightly. "Hope you weren't too stressed about it. I know how you get." He chuckled at that, like it was funny. Like everything was fine and he hadn't just left Piers in the dark for weeks. 

"Just glad everyone's safe." Piers said flatly, stepping back just a bit. Chris looked concerned, brows drawing together, but Sherry pushed past Piers' shoulder and started talking rapidly, doing her best to catch Chris up. He listened to her intently, and so did Leon. Piers barely heard her, focusing on keeping himself very still. 

"This is good to know. If that man's a friend of Wesker's, he's dangerous. Leon and I are working on figuring out how to stop those infected at the West Gate." Chris sighed, gesturing to the setup on the table. Piers recognized a lot of similarities to the way he did things, the little highlighter marks and the pins in strategic places. 

"He's an unknown in all this. I don't like it." Leon wrinkled his nose, speaking for the first time. 

"Chris, I can help you-" Piers said, stepping forwards again and putting a hand on the map, but before he could say anything else Chris held up a hand. His face was as soft as Piers had ever seen it when he looked at him and shook his head. Even so, Piers felt a little twinge in his chest. 

"We've got it. Just rest for a bit. Eat something. If you keep your earpiece on you I'll be able to contact you when we have a better plan." 

\---

After that, Piers wasn't really sure what to do. He had his orders, but they weren't what he'd expected. Sherry and Jake quickly went their separate ways. Sherry went back to the lab to find Helena. Piers didn't know where Jake had gone, just that he'd muttered something about trying to find more ammo and peeled off. 

Piers found himself wandering the second floor hallways. Sherry had mentioned something about a shower room, installed for the nurses on the night shift. That was sounding pretty good right now. It hadn't really mattered before when the most important thing was staying alive, but now that things had calmed down Piers was agitated by the grimy texture of the dirt he could feel on his skin, in his hair. He turned a corner, glancing at a plate on the wall. Bathrooms and showers were to the right, according to the little white arrow. He spun on his heel and started to move, but he only got a few feet before he stopped.

At the end of the hallway, he saw a familiar slight frame, a round face topped by a toque. 

"Finn!" Piers called, jogging down the hallway towards him. Finn glanced up at him and laughed, meeting him halfway. Piers tried to maintain a professional distance, but Finn tackled him, hugging him tightly. He couldn't help but return it, smiling slightly. Same old Finn. 

"Man, is it good to see you." Finn sighed, stepping back. 

"You're okay, right? And the rest of Alpha team?" Piers put his hands on Finn's shoulders and looked him over anxiously, fretting over the bloodied bandage on his leg. He seemed to be walking on it fine, which was a little bit of a consolation. 

"I'm fine, and so is the team. They're around, but we're sort of on guard duty right now." Finn shrugged, glancing behind him. 

"I was so worried- Chris didn't... tell me where anyone was." Piers said, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Finn didn't seem to notice. 

"Until recently, he and Leon were off somewhere else. He wasn't really in contact with me, either... Sherry just called me up one day out of the blue." 

"She called me too, told me about Jake." 

"Jake Muller?" Finn blinked, fixing Piers with a funny look. 

"Yeah. We had to get a sample of Jake's blood here for an antivirus. We're-" Piers paused for a minute, feeling his chest tighten. "We were working together for a bit. I don't know if we are now." 

"This is the same Jake Muller you were always bitchin' about? The one that pointed a gun at Chris?" Finn raised his eyebrows. Piers realized how strange this must seem to someone else. He really had complained about Jake quite a lot before, hadn't he? Piers felt sheepish. 

"It's different now. He's different." He said finally, crossing his arms and sighing deeply. Finn got a funny look in his eye, smiling big. 

"Must be some change. The way you said his name, like..." Finn tilted his head to the side, sighing theatrically. "Jake." He said it breathily, even fluttering his eyes a few time for good measure. Piers felt his face get hot, a mixture of embarassment and annoyance. 

"Watch your mouth, rookie." Piers pulled a face and punched him lightly in the shoulder. Finn laughed again, but didn't say anything more. 

\--- 

Piers had finally found the showers. It was a single door with a simple nameplate in the center. He tried the handle, and it was unlocked. Before he could go inside, footsteps sounded around the corner, walking briskly towards him. He turned his head towards the sound, curious. Jake rounded the corner, his hands full of something small and square. As he approached, Piers recognized it as a few packages of ammunition. Not the 9mm bullets that Jake used for his Colt, though. It was the wrong shape, too heavy and long. 

"Here. This is the one you use, right? I couldn't find any plastic tips, just the regular ones." Jake held out the boxes, dumping them into Piers' hands. Piers blinked. It was the right one, the .30 that he'd been using ever since his training. 

"Thanks." Piers said softly. It was a small gesture, but he couldn't help feeling a little touched. 

"No problem." Jake grinned back at him, leaning against the doorframe as Piers stowed the ammunition neatly in its spot in his bag. When he finished, he let the bag drop to the floor, putting his hand on the door handle again. Jake glanced at the door, seemingly skimming over the nameplate, but he quickly looked back down at Piers. They were close, a change that Piers hadn't noticed until now. Jake was leaning down a bit, shoulder brushing his. 

"I'm just heading in here to shower, so..." Piers tapped a finger on the sign. Jake looked at it again, smiling crookedly. 

"I know that." He laughed quietly. Piers stopped still, looking up at him curiously. Slowly, Jake reached around Piers and slid his hand into his back pocket. Piers blinked up at him, but he didn't move, just looked at him expectantly. Piers rolled his eyes. Not even trying to be subtle about it. Even like this, he was still charming, with his uneven smile and his eyes shining- It annoyed Piers to no end. 

Oh, what the hell. 

Piers put a hand on Jake's chest, grabbing him by the leather strap of his suspender, opening the door and pulling him inside with one quick movement. Jake's smiled flashed bigger when he locked the door behind them. 

\---

Piers had never been vain, and he didn't find himself looking in mirrors much. But this was different. After he dried off and got back into his clothes, he delayed by the mirror, staring at the marks on his neck. They'd gone a bit green now, but hadn't gotten any smaller, still five good-sized fingerprints across his throat. It was a little concerning, knowing what Petrov had done to him the last time they'd seen him. In the shower, Jake seemed to notice that his bruises had faded with uncharacteristic speed, but luckily he was... easily distracted. 

Piers sighed and wrapped his camo net around his neck, turning towards Jake, sitting on a bench in the center of the locker room and doing up his shoulder holster. He seemed to be struggling with it for a moment, but he finally got it on and stood up, pulling all his things together. 

Jake was first to step out into the hall, and Piers noticed pretty quickly that his holster wasn't done up quite right, the harness part in the back was misaligned. He put a hand on Jake's shoulder to hold him still and started to undo it, pulling the straps off his back. Jake spun around partway, glaring over his shoulder at Piers. 

"Hey, don't mess with that-" He sounded annoyed, but Piers fixed him with a glare. 

"You've done it up wrong. Let me help." He spun Jake around and started to fix the front, fiddling with the buckles and straps, making sure everything was sitting properly. Jake resigned himself to it, leaning until he could rest his cheek on the top of Piers' head. Piers sighed but said nothing, focusing on the harness. He'd gotten down to the last buckle when he heard footsteps down the hall. Chris' voice boomed out, talking loudly. Leon responded calmly. They were walking towards Jake and Piers. Piers went tense, dropping the harness and stepping back. 

"What's wrong?" Jake blinked over at him, looking confused. 

"Just-" Piers put a hand on his chest, pushing him back a bit, and leaned against the wall, watching for Chris. He and Leon passed them quickly, Chris smiling at Piers and nodding politely (if a bit coldly) at Jake. Piers stood still until they were gone, watching their backs recede. 

"Do you not... want to be seen with me?" Jake said softly behind him, and Piers spun around quickly. His face was blank, of course, but he was looking at Piers very intently. 

"I just don't think Chris would take it well. Especially not right now." Piers sighed. Jake bristled at that, glaring down to the end of the hallway where Chris had been. 

"Why, 'cause I'm a guy? You know i'll beat his ass-"

"No, not-" Piers laughed to himself, and Jake stopped still, looking confused. "Not that. Chris has met my boyfriends before. It's..." He sighed, went back to fixing Jake's harness, doing up the final buckle. When he spoke, he kept his voice level, and didn't make eye contact with Jake. He didn't want to see the expression on his face. 

"It's because you're you, Jake. Chris and Wesker had a really complicated relationship, and that's what comes to mind when he sees you." 

"I want to forget that bastard just as much as Chris does." Jake's voice sounded exhausted for a moment, and it made Piers look up. He saw the way his face dropped, and it made his heart hurt. 

"I know." He said quietly, reaching over and lacing his fingers through Jake's. He realized he had to press up on his tiptoes to reach Jake's face, which was incredibly annoying, but he did it anyway. Damn beanpole. Piers softly pressed his lips to the corner of Jake's mouth, and felt him smile in return. Before either of them could move, though, a noise sounded at Piers' shoulder. His earpiece wasn't in his ear, but he could still hear Chris' voice clearly enough. 

"Private Nivans, please meet me in the control room. Bring Agent Muller, too. Redfield out."


End file.
